i^m 


OR  DON 


,:^v  I    1  r^ » 


,     OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY 
C.     OF        ^ 


'DEBRETT!      CHARLIE,    OLD    MAN,    DON'T    YOU    KNOW    ME?"  — See  p.  297. 


OFF  TO  KLONDIKE 


A  Cowboy's  Rush  to  the  Gold  Fields 


BY 


GORDON   STABLES,  M.D.,  CM. 

(surgeon  royal  navy) 
author  of  "a  fight  for  freedom,"  "the  pearl  divers, 

"the   cruise   OF  THE   ROVER  CARAVAN,"    "FROM 
PLOUGHSHAKB  TO   PULPIT,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  CHARLES   WHYMPER 


NEW  YORK:  46  East  14th  Street 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  COMPANY 

BOSTON:  100  Purchase    Street 


Copyright,  1898, 
By  T.   Y.   CKOWELL  &  CO. 


Norianolj  ^rtes 

J.  S.  Cusliing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


$775' 
off 


910  fHg  Hear  Sister 
MARY 

I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 

WITH  FONDEST  LOVE  AXD  THOUGHTS  OF 

'  AULD  LANG  SYNE  ' 

THE   AUTHOR 


ivi65894.0 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEU 

I.  Abroad  on  the  Moorlands    . 

II.  A  Wild  Race  —  The  Cave  on  the  Moor 

III.  In  Touch  with  Nature  .... 

rV.  Laurie  and  Leebie  made  Prisoners     . 

V.  The  Haunted  House        .... 

YI.  The  Convict's  Terrible  Story     . 

Vn.  The  Confession 

VIII.  To  the  Land  of  the  West    . 

IX.  Wilson  Webb  in  Cowboy  Land     . 

X.  A  Green  Englishman       .... 

XI.  A  Buck-jumping  Experience  . 

XII.  It  was  a  Terrible  Fight  while  it  lasted 

XIIL  The  Great  Spring  "Round-up"    . 

XIV.  On  the  War-path 

XV.  The  Battle  —  Lynched  at  the  Stake 

XVI.  "  Tweed,  too,  was  dead  "... 

XVII.  Hurrah  !  for  the  Land  of  Gold 

XVIII.  The  Voyage  of  the  Hopeful 

XIX.  Steaming  up  the  Great  Yukon    . 

XX.  "Jackie  has  struck  the  Tay  Dirt"    . 

XXL  "A  New  Sort  of  Sauce?— Gold  I  "     . 

V 


PAGE 
1 

11 

21 

35 

47 

55 

67 

75 

85 

97 

108 

117 

129 

140 

149 

158 

163 

176 

187 

200 

212 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.     A  Sportsman's  Paradise      ....  223 

XXIII.  Over  the  Seas,  and  over  the  Land        .  230 

XXIV.  On  the  Great  Lake-chain  ....  244 
XXV.     At    Home    in    Klondyke  —  A    Bear    Ad- 
venture           256 

XXVI.     The  Day  will  soon  re  on  the  Turn        .  268 
XXVII.     Christmas    in    Klondyke  —  A    Terrible 

Journey 280 

XXVIII.     Sickness     and     Sorrow  —  The     Maniac 

Doctor 290 

XXIX.     The  Cloud  has  lifted         .        .        .        .300 

XXX.     Can  this  be  Death?     .        .        .        .   •     .  307 

XXXI.     The  Welcome  Home 316 


OFF   TO    KLONDYKE; 

OR, 

A  COWBOY'S  RUSH  TO  THE  GOLD  FIELDS 
CHAPTER   I 

ABROAD   ON   THE   MOORLANDS 

"  Now  stir  the  fire  and  close  the  shutters  fast, 
Let  fall  the  curtains,  wheel  the  sofa  round, 
And  while  the  bubbling  and  loud  hissing  urn 
Throws  up  a  steaming  column,  and  the  cups 
That  cheer  but  not  inebriate  wait  on  each, 
So  let  us  welcome  peaceful  evening  in."  —  CowrER. 

Many  of  those  bramble  berries  were  already  ripe, 
and  rich  and  black;  but  some  were  as  red  as  the 
cheeks  of  Leebie  Lea,  and  others  as  brown  as  the 
sunburned  face  of  her  little  gipsy-looking  brother 
Laurie. 

When  I  say  that,  although  Leebie  was  comfortably 
shod,  and  wore  a  neatly  be-ribboned  straw  hat  over 
her  long  yellow  hair,  Laurie  was  barefooted  and  bare- 
ankled,  it  will  easily  be  believed  that  they  did  not 
belong  to  the  aristocracy  of  this  noble  land  of  ours. 

Nor  were  they  what  are  called  "  poor  children,"  as 
will  presently  be  seen. 

B  I 


2  ABllOAD   ON   THE   MOORLANDS 

The  sun  had  just  gone  down,  and  look  in  whatever 
direction  they  might,  not  a  house  or  hut  was  to  be 
seen  on  this  vast  moorland  or  plain.  To  all  appear- 
ance the  children  were  many  and  many  a  long  mile 
from  home,  wherever  that  might  be.  This  did  not 
seem  to  trouble  them  in  the  least ;  for  Leebie,  as  she 
continued  to  gather  the  blackberries,  sang  sweetly  to 
herself  in  happy  childish  treble. 

But  Laurie  had  turned  his  back  to  the  great  bramble 
bush  and  his  face  to  the  west.  That  face  was  beam- 
ing, and  his  dark  blue  eyes  were  sparkling  with  a 
light  that  seemed  lent  from  the  gorgeous  sunset  sky. 
Surely  there  was  something  of  the  poet  and  natural- 
ist about  the  lad,  for  the  tears  were  trembling  on  his 
long  eyelashes. 

"  Oh,  Leebie  !  "  he  cried  at  last,  "why  don't  you  look 
upwards  ?  " 

The  girl  paused  now,  and  did  glance  towards  the 
west,  and  an  exclamation  of  wonder  and  admiration 
escaped  her. 

"  Oh,  Laurie,  how  pretty !  "  she  cried.  "  Who 
painted  that  sky,  I  wonder !  " 

"  Why,  God,  of  course,  Leebie.  Doesn't  he  paint 
everything  that  is  beautiful  —  the  wild  flowers,  the 
trees,  and  the  red  heather,  and  the  wings  of  that  bird 
yonder  that  is  singing  in  the  thorn  ?  " 

"Yes,"  assented  Leebie,  nodding  gravely,  "  of  course 
it  is  God,  but  I  was  nearly  forgetting." 

And  here  was  an  autumn  sunset  such  as  is  seldom 
seen  in  this  country.     High  above,  the  great  sky-dome 


ABROAD   ON   THE   MOORLANDS  3 

itself  was  clear  and  cloudless  and  of  a  pale  blue  colour, 
with  just  one  strip  of  shining-  crimson.  But  it  was 
down  towards  the  horizon  where  the  chief  beauty  lay. 
For  the  clouds  here  were  splendidly  striated  and 
streaked,  the  layers  deep  orange  in  colour,  purple, 
grey,  and  vermilion,  with  betwixt  the  orange  and  tlie 
red,  canals  of  pale  green  empty  sky.  Then  close  to 
the  horizon  was  a  bank  of  misty  grey. 

One  glance  at  tlie  children  standing  there  Avith 
faces  upturned  and  hands  shading  their  eyes  from 
the  dazzling,  heavenly  light,  would  have  told  you 
that  while  Leebie  was  reall}^  a  beautiful  and  intelli- 
gent-looking child  of  about  ten,  Laurie,  perhaps 
three  years  her  senior,  was  a  truly  manly  and  hand- 
some English  boy. 

Oh,  they  are  no  rarity  in  this  dear  country  of  ours. 
I  could  find  you  many  in  my  own  village  here,  and  it 
is  just  such  boys  as  Laurie  that,  when  they  grow  up 
to  be  men,  fight  our  battles  among  the  wild  and 
far-off  hills  of  India,  or  in  African  jungles,  and  per- 
form deeds  of  valour  which  make  the  blood  tingle 
within  our  veins,  as  we  read  of  them  at  our  quiet 
fireside  in  England. 

But  Leebie  and  Laurie  are  not  the  only  living 
creatures  in  this  lonesome,  hobgoblin  moorland.  No, 
for  yonder  there  comes  trotting  towards  them,  on 
four  legs  apiece  and  cheek  by  jowl,  two  very  interest- 
ing persons  indeed. 

Let  me  introduce  them. 

I.   Sir  Duncan  Currie! 


4  AI5110AI)   ON   THE   MOORLANDS 

II.    Towsie ! 

While  their  little  master  and  mistress  have  been 
filling  that  basket  with  ripe  blackberries,  the  two 
dogs  have  been  far  away  across  the  plains,  hunting 
on  their  own  account.  No,  not  altogetlier  on  their 
own  account,  either,  for  behold !  To  .vsie,  an  old- 
fashioned,  English  sheep-dog  is  carrying  a  large, 
wild  rabbit,  and  Sir  Duncan,  a  daft,  wee,  wiry,  Aber- 
deen terrier,  though  he  carries  no  rabbit,  looks  full  of 
importance.  He  is  trying  to  tell  Laurie  that,  although 
he  graciously  permits  Towsie  to  bear  the  bunny  along, 
had  it  not  been  for  him,  Laurie  would  not  now  be 
looking  forward  to  so  nice  a  supper. 

Very  full,  indeed,  of  self-importance  was  this  same 
Sir  Duncan.  Indeed,  I  always  think  that  the  smaller 
a  dog  —  or  a  man  either  —  is,  the  more  he  tliinks  of 
himself;  the  more  conceited  he  is. 

At  lirst  glance  nobody  could  have  said  that  Sir 
Duncan  was  a  deal  to  look  at.  Grey  in  colour  was 
he,  with  smartly  pricked  ears,  which  gave  him  the 
appearance  of  being  always  on  the  qui  vive  ;  a  smartly 
carried  tail,  which  he  seemed  very  proud  of,  but 
rather  short  in  legs,  in  body,  and  in  hair.  This  last 
was  very  close  and  almost  as  thick  and  hard  as  pin 
wire.  A  thunder-shower  could  not  have  soaked  Sir 
Duncan  to  the  skin,  nor  could  earth  or  dust  ever 
penetrate  that  hirsute  mantle  of  his.  Sir  Duncan's 
toilet  was  exceedingly  simple.  He  just  gave  himself 
a  shake,  or  on  rare  occasions  two,  and  lo !  there  he 
was,  ready  for   anything.     Sir   Duncan   Currie  was 


SiR    DUNCAN    CURRIE    AND    TOWSIE. 


ABKOAD   ON   THE   MOUKLANDS  5 

brave  to  the  core.  There  was  nothing  he  would  not 
have  attacked,  from  a  weasel,  or  polecat,  to  a  wild, 
horned  bull,  and  when  he  went  on  the  war-path,  he 
went  to  Avin.  His  teeth  had  all  the  whiteness  of 
alabaster,  but  were  as  strong  as  Highland  dirks. 
Sharp  and  quick  was  Sir  Duncan  and  easy  to  take 
offence,  but  it  could  not  be  said  that  he  was  bad  in 
temper.  He  possessed  a  loving  wee  heart  of  his  own, 
and  when  he  looked  at  his  master  or  mistress  it  shone 
out  through  a  pair  of  the  darkest  and  brownest  of 
eyes"  that  any  one  ever  beheld. 

I  believe,  moreover,  that  he  was  proud  of  his  con- 
stant companion,  Towsie. 

And  this  affection  Towsie,  a  bob-tailed,  wall-eyed, 
old-fashioned  English  sheep-dog,  fully  reciprocated, 
though  he  was  older  and  more  sedate  than  little 
Currie,  as  he  was  usually  called  for  short.  As 
Burns  says,  — 

"  Nae  doubt  but  they  were  fain  o'  ither 
An'  unco  pack  and  thick  thegither ; 
Wi'  social  nose  wliiles  snuffed  and  snowkit^ 
Whiles  mice  and  nioudiewarts  they  howkit,^ 
Whiles  scoured  awa  in  lang  excursion, 
An'  worried  ither  in  diversion." 

Nevertheless  Currie  possessed  a  very  strong  sense 
of  the  ridiculous,  and  there  were  times  when  out 
on  the  moorland  or  plains,  that  all  at  once,  after 
a  glance  or  two  at  Towsie,  his  shape  —  so  different 
from  his  own  —  struck  him  as  so  irresistibly  comical 

^  Scented.  ^  Dug  up. 


6  ABROAD   ON   THE   MOORLANDS 

that,  with  his  teeth  showing,  all  agrin  with  laughing, 
he  was  fain  to  allay  his  feelings  by  rushing  round 
and  round  his  companion,  in  wide  and  wider  circles, 
till,  faiiiy  exhausted,  he  would  tumble  on  the  grass. 

"  Oh,  Towsie,  Towsie  !  "  he  seemed  to  say,  "  you'll 
be  the  death  of  rae,  some  day.  When  I  look  at  you, 
I  feel  fit  to  choke  with  merriment.  Never  an  ear 
to  be  seen ;  heather  instead  of  hair ;  one  brown  eye 
blinking  out  of  your  shaggy  face,  and  one  the  colour 
of  an  old  china  plate,  —  and  oh,  Towse,  not  even  the 
stump  of  a  tail !  How  ever  your  mother  let  you  out 
like  that,  /could  never  tell !  " 

Then,  as  if  afraid  he  had  offended  honest  Towsie, 
he  would  trot  up  and  kiss  him. 

"  Never  mind  me,  Towsie,"  he  would  say,  "  I  must 
have  a  bit  o'  fun  sometimes.  I'm  that  way  built, 
you  know." 

Well,  Sir  Duncan  Currie  could  catch  every  creat- 
ure of  ordinary  size  that  ran.  Mice  and  rats  he 
worried  as  quickly  as  one  could  wink.  One  bite 
was  enough  for  a  weasel  or  martin,  and  two  for  a 
polecat.  He  would  drag  a  badger  from  his  lair, 
and  even  fight  a  fox.  But  away  in  the  woods,  he 
would  sit  at  the  foot  of  a  great  oak  tree,  and  bark 
with  vexation,  at  a  squirrel  high  up  among  the  green 
swaying  boughs  quietly  eating  an  acorn ;  for  climb- 
ing trees  was  far  beyond  even  Sir  Duncan's  power. 
But  often  and  often  he  stalked  and  caught  birds 
on  the  ground ;  and  more  than  once  he  had  come 
proudly  back  to  his  master  and  laid  a  plump  and 


ABROAD   ON  THE   MOOKLANDS  7 

lovely  partridge  at  liis  feet.  This  only  in  early 
autumn,  for  during  the  nesting  season  Laurie  kept 
both  his  dogs  close  to  heel. 

I  think  that  the  greatest  sorrow  in  Currie's  heart 
sprang  from  the  fact  that  he  could  not  catch  a  species 
of  snipe,  common  enough  near  the  pools  where  the 
wild  ducks  had  their  nests. 

For  clever  and  all  though  he  was,  this  doggie 
couldn't  fly,  but  he  would  sit  on  one  end  with  his 
black  dot  of  a  nose  in  the  air,  watching  that  snipe  till 
it  was  no  longer  visible,  and  wish  he  only  had  wings. 

Because  this  particular  species  of  snipe  seemed  to 
call  his  name.  This  was  only  the  bird's  cry,  but  it 
really  was  very  tantalising. 

"Currie,  Currie,  Currie,  Currie!" 

"Oh,"  Sir  Duncan  appeared  to  say,  "J  would 
Currie  you,  if  I  could  only  just  catch  you ! " 

Well,  on  this  particular  evening,  Towsie  laid  the 
rabbit  very  gently  down  at  his  master's  feet,  and 
received  from  both  children  a  deal  of  praise  and 
cuddling. 

With  her  arms  around  the  honest  dog's  neck  as 
she  knelt  beside  him,  —  bareheaded  now,  for  her  hat 
had  fallen  off,  —  Leebie  and  he  made  a  pretty  pict- 
ure. 

As  for  Sir  Duncan  Currie  he  had  quite  taken  pos- 
session of  his  master,  and  seemed  determined  that 
Towsie  should  not  have  a  single  caress. 
***** 

But  by  this  time  the  beauty  had  begun  to  fade 


8  AP.KOAD   ON  THE   MOORLANDS 

away  from  the  cloudscape ;  that  strip  of  cirrhus  that 
erst  was  so  brightly  crimson  had  already  changed  to 
bronze,  and  the  bars  that  lay  along  the  lower  part  of 
the  sky  were  now  purple  and  grey. 

Laurie  took  a  piece  of  twine  from  his  pocket  — 
what  country  boy  ever  goes  abroad  without  this  — 
and,  tying  the  rabbit's  fore  and  hind  feet  together, 
slung  it  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Come  on,  Leebie,"  he  cried.  "  Why,  it  will  be 
almost  dark  before  we  get  home  !  " 

"Wowff!  wowff!  wowff!"  barked  Sir  Duncan, 
running  on  excitedly  in  front,  for  hunting  had  made 
him  hungry.  But  Towsie  simply  licked  his  master's 
hand  with  his  warm  tongue. 

"I'll  guide  you  safely  home,"  he  seemed  to  say, 
"  should  it  be  as  dark  as  my  coat." 

It  was  quite  half  an  hour,  however,  before  they 
got  clear  of  the  plain  and  on  to  the  road.  And  by 
this  time  it  was  dusk  and  a  star  or  two  were  blinking 
and  winking  in  the  east. 

When  the  road  led  them  into  and  through  a  wood 
of  oak  trees,  to  which  the  brown  leaves  were  still 
closely  clinging,  it  was  so  dark  that  but  for  a  long 
line  of  sky  above,  they  could  not  have  been  able  to 
see  their  way  at  all. 

But  Laurie  was  a  cheerful  boy,  and  now  his  voice 
was  raised  in  song. 

Only  a  simple  English  ditty  that  his  father  had 
taught  him,  but  it  sufficed  to  make  the  long  road 
appear  shorter. 


ABROAD   OX  THE    MOORLANDS  9 

In  some  measure  Laurie  was  like  the  miller  of  Dee, 
for  he  sang  pretty  well  all  day  long. 

"  There  was  a  jolly  miller  once 
Lived  on  the  river  Dee ; 
lie  worked  and  sung  from  morn  till  night, 
No  lark  more  bright  than  he. 

"And  this  the  burthen  of  his  song 
Forever  used  to  be, 
'  I  care  for  nobody,  no,  not  I, 
If  nobody  cares  for  me.'  " 

But  in  the  present  instance  these  words  would  have 
been  far  indeed  from  appropriate.  For  Laurie  had 
some  one  to  care  for  him. 

Behold,  they  are  clear  of  the  woods  at  last,  and 
about  a  hundred  yards  farther  on,  the  bright  light 
from  a  cottage  window  is  streaming  across  a  well- 
cultivated  garden  and  across  the  road  beyond. 

And  the  children's  mother  is  leaning  over  the  gate. 
She  has  been  awaiting  their  arrival  anxiously  enough. 
Both  Towsie  and  Currie  sprang  forward  with  a  joy- 
ful bound,  and  Leebie  and  Laurie  speedily  followed 
their  leaders. 

"  Come  in,  my  deai-s,  come  in,"  said  the  mother. 
"  You  must  both  be  cold  and  hungry,  and  your  father 
and  I  were  getting  quite  nervous  about  you." 

"  No  need,  mother,  no  need.  We've  had  such  a 
splendid  time  of  it.  And  look  at  the  beautiful  rabbit 
that  Towsie  brought  me,  and  the  lovely  basketful  of 
blackberries  Leeb  and  I  have  picked  I  " 

They  were  in  the  house  by  this  time,  and  in  the 


lO  ABROAD   ON   THE   MOORLANDS 

room  where  father  sat  quietly  reading  the  morning 
paper ;  for  Mr.  Lea  was  a  farmer  in  a  small  way,  and 
had  but  little  time  to  read  anything  until  the  shades 
of  evening  fell  and  work  was  over  for  the  day.  But 
he  was  very  glad  to  see  the  youngsters,  and  Leel)ie 
was  soon  on  his  knee  —  her  favourite  seat  —  telling 
him  of  all  their  adventures  on  the  plains. 

Well,  Mrs.  Lea  now  hurried  away  to  superintend 
the  skinning  and  stewing  of  that  rabbit,  and  with 
mashed  potatoes  it  made,  indeed,  a  delightful  supper, 
flanked  by  fragrant  tea.  Sir  Duncan  Currie  sat  on 
the  hearth-rug  looking  at  the  cheerful  fire  of  turf, 
wood,  and  coal,  and  beside  him  sat  a  huge,  red  tabby- 
cat,  the  two  being  on  terms  of  great  intimacy  and 
friendship. 

Towsie  sat  under  the  table,  but  no  sooner  was 
supper  over  than  both  dogs  came  out,  expectant  of 
their  share.     Nor  were  the}^  disappointed. 

Before  retiring  for  the  night  the  farmer  took  down 

"  The  big,  ha'  Bible,  once  his  father's  pride," 

and  the  prayer-book  as  well,  and  conducted  short  but 
earnest  devotions. 

Happy,  indeed,  is  the  evening  of  a  day  that  endeth 
thus. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  WILD  RACE  —  THE  CAVE  ON  THE  MOOR 

"  I've  wandered  east,  I've  wandered  west, 
Through  many  a  weary  way, 
But  never,  never  can  forget 

The  love  of  life's  young  day." 

—  William  Motherwell. 

Mr.  Lea's  farm  was  not  a  large  one,  nor  was  he 
ever,  likely  to  make  a  fortune  on  it.  Indeed,  as  far 
as  the  world  goes,  he  was  really  poor.  True,  he  had 
not  many  children.  Indeed,  we  have  already  become 
acquainted  with  all  he  had ;  but  the  farm  had  to  be 
tilled,  and  so  there  were  men  and  horses  to  keep  and 
pay  for,  and  the  honest  fellow  was  always  pleased  if, 
about  Christmas  time,  when  he  reckoned  up  his  books 
on  the  debit  and  credit  side,  he  found  that  ends  not 
only  met,  but  lapped  a  little  way  over. 

But  he  was  not  rich  enough  to  send  Leebie  and 
Laurie  to  a  far-off  boarding-school,  even  if  he  had 
cared  to  part  with  them.  And  of  course  to  send 
them  to  tlie  village  board  school  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. So  they  had  a  somewhat  clever  governess,  who 
came  shortly  after  breakfast,  and  taught  them  all  the 
forenoon. 

Then  the  children  got  the  afternoon  and  evening 
II 


12  A   WILD   RACE 

to  themselves,  and  in  fine  weather  spent  most  of 
their  time  on  the  upland  moor  or  plain. 

It  was  neither  a  moor  nor  a  plain  to  them,  however, 
but  a  boundless  prairie;  and  no  Indians  in  the  far- 
west  of  America  ever  ran  more  wild  and  free  than 
they  did  here. 

But  the  dogs  were  not  their  only  companions,  ex- 
cellent though  these  were.  No,  for  they  had  Bob 
and  Neddy  besides. 

I  may  say  at  once  that  although  Bob,  a  droll  little 
Shetland  pony,  belonged  entirely  to  them,  and  was  a 
very  great  pet,  and  a  spoiled  one  too,  Neddy  the 
donkey  was  an  inhabitant  of  the  prairie.  He  dwelt 
there  nearly  all  the  year  tlirough,  and  no  one  seemed 
to  own  him  or  even   know  to  whom  he  belonged. 

o 

But  he  had  attached  himself  very  much  to  Leebie 
and  Laurie  Lea,  he  was  a  great  friend  of  Bob's,  and 
on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  the  dogs. 

Unlike  donkeys  that  are  dragged  up  under  man's 
cruel  dominion,  Neddy  was  as  fleet  as  the  wind  that 
bent  the  reeds  and  grass  on  the  prairie.  Yet  none 
the  more  averse  was  he  to  be  ridden  by  Laurie.  And 
the  performance  was  a  bareback  one  with  just  a  rope 
instead  of  a  bridle.  It  is  true  that  the  boy  had  a 
morsel  of  a  whip,  but  he  never  touched  Neddy  there- 
with. It  was  merely  meant  to  crack  as  he  gave  vent 
to  a  wild  whoop,  and  went  careering  over  the  plain. 

The  day  after  the  blackberrying  expedition  was  to 
be  a  holiday.  Miss  May  was  going  from  home,  so 
the  two  children  would   have  all  the   long   day   to 


A   TVILD   EACE  I3 

themselves  to  do  just  as  they  pleased.  Laurie,  how- 
ever, was  by  no  means  an  idle  boy,  and  stayed  at 
home  for  two  hours  after  breakfast,  to  assist  his 
father  in  some  of  the  lighter  duties  of  the  farm. 

But  Bob  was  brought  out  at  last  and  saddled  and 
bridled  for  Leebie  to  ride.  Tlie  little  rough-haired, 
long-tailed  rascal  knew  he  was  going  to  have  some 
real  fine  fun,  and  was  full  of  life  and  ofo.  He  shook 
his  great  mane  and  neighed  with  delight,  while  the 
dogs,  who  were  never  so  well  pleased  as  when  the 
Shetland  formed  one  of  the  expedition,  jumped  up 
and  kissed  him,  then  barked  in  joy  and  wantonness, 
as  they  rushed  round  and  round  him  on  the  road. 

Right  in  fiont  of  the  saddle  was  a  mysterious-look- 
ing roll  or  parcel.  But  there  really  was  no  mystery 
abdut  it.  For  it  contained  dinner  for  all  hands  in- 
eluding  the  dogs,  of  course. 

It  was  a  splendid  morning  when  the}'  started.  Away 
to  the  west  were  glorious  banks  of  rolling  clouds,  like 
icebergs  draped  with  snow;  the  sky  above  them,  a 
deep  ethereal  blue.  But  southeast  by  east,  the  clouds 
were  grey,  though  fringed  at  the  top  with  an  irregu- 
lar line  of  silver,  and  through  the  very  centre  of  this 
l)ank,  in  a  space  of  lurid  biown,  sailed  the  sun.  No  one 
(jould  say  he  shone,  so  sadly  shorn  of  his  beams  was  he. 

Altliough,  wlien  once  faiily  mounted,  Leebie  had  a 
I)reliminary  gallop, — she  and  her  wild  little  steed, 
dogs  and  all,  being  speedily  swallowed  up  by  the 
forest,  —  they  soon  returned,  and  the  real  fun  did  not 
commence  until  tlie  lad  climbed  the  hill  and  reached 


14  A   WILD   RACE 

the  boundary  of  the  plain.  And  here  was  Neddy 
himself  waiting  for  them.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the 
first  head,  and  that  was  Leebie's,  he  lifted  up  that 
wonderful  voice  of  his,  and  gave  vent  to  a  series  of 
"  Haw-hee's  "  that  really  seemed  to  make  the  welkin 
ring. 

The  "  Haw  "  was  on  a  low  bass  key,  the  "  Hee  " 
was  a  high  tenor,  shrieked  and  long  drawn  out. 

Never  mind,  it  sounded  like  "  ha.u-rie !  Laurie  ! " 
and  really  was  a  poean  of  joy  and  welcome,  or  meant 
to  be. 

And  now  Neddy  must  fling  his  heels  in  the  air,  and 
after  receiving  a  kiss  from  the  dogs,  rush  forward  to 
rub  noses  with  Bob.  After  this  Laurie  put  his  bridle 
on  and  mounted  him  bareback,  of  course ;  for  the 
boy  had  that  fast  and  secure  grip  of  the  knees,  which 
enabled  him  to  ride  any  horse  without  a  saddle. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  Laurie.  "  Hurrah  !  Leebie  !  Hur- 
rah !  Now  for  a  ride  over  the  boundless  prairie. 
Follow  me.     Whoop  !  " 

That  wild  "  whoop! "  of  Laurie's  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  Chik-Chek  Indian. 

Laurie  deserted  the  road  entirely  now,  and  Leebie 
followed  suit.  It  is  true,  the  plain  was  somewhat 
lumpy  and,  owing  to  the  number  of  large  stones 
about,  not  altogether  safe  ;  but  the  youngsters  did  not 
mind  that,  and  if  the  riders  did  not  care,  certainly 
the  steeds  didn't.  Laurie  was  evidently  going  to 
make  a  bee-line  straight  for  a  cave  about  a  mile 
distant. 


A   WILD   RACE  1 5 

Leebie  bent  down  and  patted  Bob,  and  then  Bob 
knew  it  was  to  be  a  race  between  him  and  Nedd3s 
and  that  he  must  overtake  him  before  he  reached  the 
cave,  or  fall  dead  in  his  tracks. 

He  neighed  a  wild  defiance,  then  started  off  at  a 
rate  that  defies  description.  But  Neddy  was  a  long 
way  ahead  from  the  first,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed 
that  he  was  actually  increasing  it. 

Leebie  now  grew  excited,  and  every  minute  the 
Shetland  was  warming  more  and  more  to  his  work. 

Over  and  over  again  she  patted  his  shoulder.  "  Go 
on,  good  Bobbie  I  go  on  !  "  she  cried.  "  Come,  Bobbie, 
come,  we  mustn't  be  beaten  !  " 

Bobbie  didn't  mean  to  be,  if  he  could  help  it ;  for 
the  pony  had  the  grit  in  him,  as  Yankees  say.  Well, 
they  tell  me  a  donkey's  gallop  is  short  and  sweet. 
Then  Neddy's  must  have  been  an  exception ;  for 
though  the  pony  now  gained  on  him  hand  over  hand, 
the  two  wild  steeds  were  haidly  a  hundred  yards 
from  the  mouth  of  the  cave  before  they  were  neck 
and  neck. 

Now  came  the  tug  of  war.  Whether  Laurie  had 
been  saving  Neddy's  strength  for  the  finish  or  not,  I 
cannot  say,  but  he  suddenly  gave  him  his  head  and 
all  the  encouragement  in  his  power. 

"  Whoop  !  whoop  !  whoop  !  "  he  shouted. 

Crack,  crack,  crack,  went  the  whip.  Surely  no  such 
race  as  this  was  ever  run  before,  and  no  such  Derby 
ever  seen. 

Neck  and  neck,  head  and  head,  till  almost  the  fin- 


1 6  A   WILD   RACE 

ish.  Then  with  a  wild  exultant  cry  Leebie  sent  for- 
ward her  little  horse,  till  he  seemed  to  fly,  and  won  — 
by  half  a  length. 

Even  the  dogs  had  been  left  far  in  the  rear,  but 
as  Laurie  and  Leebie  stood  there  laughing  right 
merrily,  as  they  patted  and  petted  Neddy  and  Bob, 
their  canine  friends  came  panting  towards  them. 

And  now  Leebie's  saddle  and  bridle,  and  Laurie's 
rope  were  taken  off  and  the  steeds  were  set  free. 
"Mind,"  said  Laurie,  "you  mustn't  go  very  far 
away,   and   you   must  return   whenever  I  Avhistie." 

The  cave,  which  they  had  now  reached,  was  a 
strange  one.  A  huge  hillock  of  rock  and  stones  and 
turf  formed  its  roof,  and  among  these  furze  was 
growing,  while  the  entrance  was  entirely  hidden  by 
bushes. 

But  inside  it  was  roomy  and  capacious  enough,  and, 
independent  of  a  rude  sort  of  chimney  which  gave 
exit  to  the  smoke,  there  was  an  orifice  on  the  west 
side,  that  admitted  liglit  enough  for  every  useful  pur- 
pose. 

It  was  evident  that  this  cave  was  a  favourite  resort 
with  Laurie  and  his  sister ;  for  they  had  gone  so  far 
as  to  furnish  it  with  a  rough  wooden  table  and  seats, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  large  soft  couch  of  lieather  and 
brackens,  on  which  a  tired  man  might  well  rest  and 
sleep. 

And  here  was  wood  in  abundance,  to  say  nothing 
of  dry,  hard  peats.  So  Laurie  set  himself  at  once  to 
liglit  a  fire,  and  soon  its  pleasant  blaze,  reflected  from 


A   WILD   KACE  I 7 

the  dark,  rocky  walls  on  every  side,  made  the  place 
look  very  cosy  indeed,  and  very  homelike,  too. 

It  was  a  favourite  resort  with  the  boy  and  his  sister, 
even  in  early  spring  before  the  woodlands  were  clad 
in  tender  green,  while  the  weird  spruce  firs,  and 
shaggy  pines  looked  black  in  contrast  with  the  bare 
grey  branches  of  oak  or  sycamore,  and  while,  with 
the  exception  of  the  dusky  green  leaves  of  the  honey- 
suckle, scarce  was  a  bud  or  burgeon  to  be  seen  on 
the  hedgerows.  The  air  at  this  time  had  hardly  yet 
lost  its  wintry  sting,  it  is  true,  but  the  wind  that 
blew  across  the  plain  or  prairie,  though  cold,  was 
pure  and  fresh ;  so  life  and  joy  were  in  every  breath 
they  breathed. 

But  even  then  there  was  many  a  beautiful  thing 
to  be  seen  and  admired,  and  young  though  even 
Leebie  was,  she  was  a  creature  of  the  wilds  and 
loved  nature  in  every  form.  She  might  have  said 
with  Milton  iu  "  Lycidas  "  :  — 

"  Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamelled  eyes, 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honeyed  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose,  that,  forsaken,  dies; 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet, 

The  musk-rose,  and  tiie  well-attired  woodbine. 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears." 

Well  Leebie  loved  the   early  spring  flowers,  but 
c 


1 8  A   WILD   RACE 

though  she  loved  little  creeping  or  flying  things  as 
well,  she  could  not  help  pitying  these  because  they 
had  been  born  and  sent  out  into  the  world  too  soon, 
and  before  the  sun's  rays  had  gathered  strength 
enough  to  warm  their  tiny  bodies. 

Look  at  that  lonesome  wee  lady  bird,  for  instance, 
in  jacket  of  bright  vermilion  spotted  with  black.  Not 
one  of  its  kindred  is  it  likely  to  meet  anywhere  in 
these  wilds.  It  climbs  a  stalk  of  withered  grass, 
spreads  wide  its  cloak,  and  attempts  to  fly.  But  the 
wind  chills  its  tender  wings  and  soon  down  it  drops, 
and  presently  the  rose-linnet  spies  it,  and  the  lady- 
bird is  no  longer  left  in  misery. 

Or  look  at  yonder  little  blue  butterfly.  Was  it 
born  this  spring,  Leebie  wonders,  or  did  it  lie  hiding 
in  some  cosy  crevice  all  the  winter  through,  till  the 
spring  sunshine  lured  it  forth?  It,  also,  is  search- 
ing in  vain  for  one  of  its  kindred  to  play  with  and 
to  love.  Alas !  there  is  none  ;  but  a  yellow-billed 
blackbird  has  seen  it  and  seized  it.  Just  for  a 
moment  or  two  the  blue  wings  ornament  the  cheeks 
of  the  bonny,  bonny  bird,  then  that  early  butterfly 
is  swallowed  and  knows  no  more. 

But  both  Laurie  and  his  sister  know  something. 
They  know  where  that  yellow-bill  has  his  nest  in  the 
furze,  which  already  is  green,  and  where  also  the 
rose-linnet  has  his ;  and  how  they  are  built,  and  how 
they  are  lined,  and  how  many  pretty  eggs  each. 
Both  birds  cease  to  sing  as  the  children  approach 
the  bushes  where  their  homes  are,  but  more  mellow 


A   WILD   RACE  1 9 

and  lively  than  before  are  their  joy-notes  when  they 
pass  on,  after  one  or  two  admiring  glances. 

There  are  many  more  nests  to  be  visited  in  early 
spring,  many  sweet  and  hardy  wee  wild  flowers  to  be 
admired,  and  much  more  bird  melody  to  be  listened 
to  with  delight. 

The  opening  summer,  however,  was  the  favourite 
season  of  all  with  Laurie  and  Leebie,  when  dainty 
May  had  already  clad  the  trees  in  tenderest  olives 
and  sweetest  greens,  when  the  yellow,  rich  furze  that 
hugged  the  moor  scented  all  the  air  around,  and  the 
sward  by  the  roadsides  was  a  galaxy  of  bee-haunted 
beauty, — a  beauty  lent  to  it  by  the  gowan,  the 

"  Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flower," 

that  Burns  sang  so  sweetly  of,  the  rich  and  tempting 
white  of  the  clover,  the  deep  orange  but  crimson- 
shaded  bird's-foot  trefoil,  starry  ox-eye  daisies,  and 
lovely  blue  of  the  modest  speedwell. 

Thus  May  would  lead  them,  step  by  step,  into  the 
joy  of  June,  when,  although  the  nightingale  ceased 
to  sing,  the  woods,  the  copses,  and  the  wild,  wide 
moor  itself,  resounded  with  the  happy  voices  of  a 
thousand  feathered  songsters.  Happy,  did  I  say? 
Yea,  verily,  so  happy  that  their  melodies  had  at 
times  an  almost  hysterical  bubble  in  them,  as  if 
tears  of  joy  were  half  choking  them. 

"  O  God,  it  was  a  holy  time ; 
His  breath  was  o'er  the  land." 

Would  that  we  could  all  study  His  works  more, 


20  A   WILD   RACE 

from  the  greatest  even  to  the  least.  Grand  indeed 
is  the  tiger  that  prowls  silently  through  the  jungles 
of  India,  and  noble  and  majestic  in  his  terrible 
strength  the  ice  bear  that  stalks  over  the  frozen 
and  snow-clad  seas  of  the  Arctic ;  but  in  many  of 
the  tiniest  insects  that  creep  on  the  stalks  of  the 
green  July  heather  or  heath,  there  is  a  beauty  that 
nothing  else  on  earth  can  equal,  far  less  surpass. 

He  does  not  really  live  who  loves  not  nature  ; 
or  who  ne'er  can  see  beauty  and  romance  in  a 
yellow  primrose,  and  ne'er  can  feel 

"  The  witchery  of  a  soft  bhie  sky." 


CHAPTER   III 

IN   TOUCH    WITH   NATURE 

"  Go  fortli  iiiidei-  the  oiien  sky,  and  list 
To  Nature's  teachings."  —  Bkyant. 

Just  as  one  who  admires  the  picture  of  some 
famous  artist  is  really  honouring  the  maker  thereof, 
so  do  we  truly  honour  and  worship  God  when  we 
stand  in  silent  awe  and  admiration  before  his  won- 
drous works,  be  they  treescapes  or  seascapes,  the 
marvels  of  the  ever-changing  sky,  or  the  living 
creatures  he  cares  for  and  loves. 

"You  will  find,"  says  Bolingbroke,  "that  it  is 
the  modest,  not  the  presum[)tuous,  inquirer  who 
makes  a  real  and  safe  progress  in  the  discovery  of 
divine  truths.  One  must  follow  nature  and  nature's 
God  —  that  is,  he  must  follow  God  in  his  Avorks  and 
in  his  word." 

Well,  I  have  no  desire  to  set  my  young  hero, 
Laurie  Lea,  up  for  a  saint.  He  was  just  a  bold 
Englisli  boy,  and  I  trust  there  are  very  many  more 
like  him.  Somewhat  different  in  type,  however, 
from  tlie  majority  of  British  lads,  who  are  content 
to  go  through  their  "  teens "  and  merge  into  man- 
hood with  their  eyes  shut,  so  far  as  nature  is  con- 
cerned. 


22  IN  TOUCH   WITH   NATURE 

Laurie  was  nothing  unless  a  naturalist,  and  though 
his  friend,  Ernest  Elliot,  whom  I  shall  presently 
introduce,  used  to  listen  to  all  he  said  with  a  good 
deal  of  pleasure,  he  himself  preferred  a  fishing-rod  or 
a  ride  across  country  to  almost  any  other  pleasure 
that  life  could  afford. 

Still,  I  cannot  help  saying  that  the  young  man  who 
lives  in  the  country,  and  does  not  take  up  natural 
history  as  a  pursuit  to  some  extent,  is  to  be  pitied. 
He  is  wilfully  blind  with  his  mental  eyes,  and  denies 
himself  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  in  existence. 
But  here  is  the  great  mistake  people  who  desire  to 
study  nature  make,  —  they  commence  with  classifi- 
cation too  soon,  and  so  sicken  themselves  with  long 
compound  Latin  or  Greek  names.  Encourage 
young  folks  to  study  the  natural  history  of  their  own 
gardens,  or  even  to  tell  the  life-story  of  a  single  tree 
from  year's  end  to  year's  end;  they  will  get  more 
insight  into  nature  while  doing  so  than  if  they  read 
a  hundred  dry-as-dust  works  of  tlie  most  eminent 
naturalists.  Classification  will  come  in  handy  after- 
wards. Put  a  real  naturalist  down  for  six  months  in 
a  potato  patch,  and  he  will  write  you  a  beautiful  and 
interesting  book  thereon,  with  very  little  classifica- 
tion in  it.  Imprison  him  in  a  cellar  and  give  him  a 
candlelight,  and  in  three  months'  time  he  wall  hand 
you  a  most  readable  book  on  the  life  he  finds  therein. 
I  have  met  learned  souls  who  were  content  to  dis- 
miss a  bird  by  telling  you  its  Latin  name  and  classi- 
fication.    The  sparrow,  they  would  say,  is  the  "  Passer 


IN  TOUCH   WITH  NATURE  23 

domesticus,"  and  belongs  to  the  Nat.  Fam.  "  Fringil- 
lidse."  And  these  men  call  themselves  naturalists. 
If  you  dined  with  me,  reader,  I  could  undertake  to 
talk  about  nothing  save  sparrows  all  the  evening,  and 
I  do  believe  you  would  be  sorry  when  bedtime  came. 
And  Laurie  was  just  the  same,  and,  mind  you  this, 
his  character  and  history  are  sketched  from  the  life ; 
for  every  hero  of  mine  has  had  his  prototj^pe. 

Well,  I  cannot  here  repeat  all  that  Laurie  used 
to  tell  his  young  friend  Ernest  and  his  sister 
Leebie,  who,  I  may  inform  you,  boys,  though  you 
must  not  let  it  go  any  farther,  was  Ernest's  little 
sweetheart. 

But  Laurie  was  very  fond  of  his,  or  rather  his 
father's,  sparrows,  and  made  them  a  study,  and  could 
tell  many  a  story  concerning  their  nature  and  habits 
not  to  be  found  in  books. 

Several  of  the  poplar  trees  around  his  father's  farm 
were  covered,  as  to  their  stem,  with  ivy.  This  was  a 
great  roosting-place  for  flocks  of  these  birds ;  so  was 
the  ivy  over  and  at  each  side  of  the  hall  door.  At 
sunset  of  an  evening  the  babel,  din,  and  squabbling 
for  good  places  were  incessant  for  fully  half  an  hour ; 
then  all  was  peace  till  daybreak.  In  the  wistaria 
and  ivy  were  innumerable  nests.  These  made  shel- 
ters at  night  during  winter  for  his  pets.  Up  one 
gable  of  the  stable  grew  a  Gloire  de  Dijon  rose  tree. 
In  this  tree,  during  winter,  the  sparrows  often  built 
tiny  shelter  nests,  or  rather  the  females  built  them 
to  keep  their  lords  and  masters  snug  and  cosy.     The 


24  IN  TOUCH  WITH  NATURE 

same  sparrow  sat  night  after  night  on  the  same  rose 
twigs,  under  tliat  verandali.  Often  a  sparrow  had 
two  wives  —  more  fool  he,  of  course.  One,  who 
occupied  a  particuhar  twig  close  to  that  lawn  window, 
used  to  call  his  two  wives  every  night,  and  send  them 
to  bed  before  he  went  himself.  This  bird  used  to 
have  a  big  straw  hung  over  him.  If  Laurie  took  it 
down,  or  it  was  blown  away,  another  used  to  be  hung 
up.  The  wives  of  this  bigamist  sparrow  sometimes 
fought  cruelly.  The  overmuch-married  sparrow 
just  looked  on,  and  let  them.  "  What  can  a  poor 
fellow  do?"  he  would  say.  "But,"  he  added,  "I'll 
know  better  another  year  !  "  So,  you  see,  experience 
teaches  sparrows  as  well  as  fools.  Sparrows  are  fond 
of  buildinor  under  the  eaves  of  thatched  houses,  in 
waterspouts,  in  chimneys,  and  in  holes  in  old  orchard 
trees.  An  old  nest  was  often  relined,  and  served 
again  and  again.  They  frequently  ousted  the  swal- 
lows from  their  nests,  but  Laurie  had  never  known 
the  latter  to  clay  them  up. 

In  Laurie's  father's  orchard  grew  a  great,  gnarled 
old  russet  apple  tree.  With  a  very  short  fishing-rod 
he  could  touch  a  knot,  at  the  union  of  two  branches, 
which  was  hollow  and  had  a  tiny  entrance  hole.  The 
knot  was  barely  nine  inches  in  diameter,  and  suitable, 
one  would  have  thought,  only  for  the  nest  of  a  wry- 
neck or  wren ;  but,  nevertheless,  a  pair  of  sparrows 
had  lived  there  and  reared  families  for  several  years, 
—  unmolested,  too,  except  from  the  occasional  visit  of 
an  insolent  starling  on    an   egg-hunting    expedition, 


IN  TOUCH  WITH  nature  25 

who,  however,  had  always  confined  his  audacity  to 
peeping  down  into  the  nest  witli  one  eye  and  passing 
a  few  perhaps  not  overcomplimentaiy  remarks.  But 
once  the  tree  and  the  hollow  knot  were  occupied  by 
the  hen-sparrow  and  a  young  cock-sparrow,  lier  son. 
The  son  was  bigger  than  the  mother,  but  had  not  yet 
completed  his  spring  moult,  though  the  black  bib 
was  advancing  downwards  from  the  chin.  But  the 
curious  part  of  the  business  was  this ;  the  young  cock 
never  left  the  tree  or  went  many  twigs  away  from 
the  nest.  He  simply  sat  there  illuming  his  feathers, 
his  mother  coming  about  every  ten  minutes  with 
something  for  him  to  eat.  "Breet,  breet,  breet," 
she  cried,  which  means  "open  you  bill."  Then  she 
rammed  the  bread,  or  beetle,  or  larva  right  down  his 
throat.  As  the  young  sparrow  was  somewhat  hol- 
low-eyed, he  might  have  been  sickly,  but  an  in- 
stance of  such  maternal  devotion,  I  think,  deserves 
to  be  recorded. 

Farmer  Lea  himself  was  a  thinking  man.  Many 
farmers  are.  Nor  did  he  keep  his  tlioughts  to  him- 
self, but  oftentimes  communicated  his  ideas  to  his 
wife,  and  others  around  him,  while  smoking  his  pipe 
at  the  cosy  fireside  of  an  evening. 

It  was  evident  tliat  Laurie  took  after  him;  for  Lea 
was  himself  a  lover  of  nature,  as  may  be  seen  from 
the  following  remarks  lie  made  to  a  neighbour  who 
had  dropped  in  one  niglit  to  speak  about  the  crops 
and  the  prospects  of  a  good  harvest. 

"There  is  no  more    delightful   study,   Tom,"  he 


26  IN  TOUCH  WITH  NATURE 

said,  "  for  young  or  old  than  nature,  and  no  more 
delightful  book  to  read.  Some  are  born  naturalists 
just  as  othei'S  are  born  musicians ;  but  even  musical 
taste  and  that  for  natural  history  can  be  acquired  by 
the  young.  It  is  animal  nature  that  appeals  most  to 
youth,  and  they  should  be  encouraged  to  study  that 
first ;  not  by  catching  and  killing  things,  but  watch- 
ing the  work  and  habits  of  life  of  the  spiders,  ants, 
earwigs,  beetles,  centipedes,  etc.  If  a  father  wants 
to  encourage  his  boy  or  girl  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
most  charming  science  in  the  world,  let  him  place 
down  on  a  quiet  part  of  the  lawn  a  flat,  thick  plank 
about  nine  inches  wide  and  three  feet  long.  When 
it  has  lain  for  weeks  so  that  it  has  half  sunk  into  the 
ground  and  the  grass  is  gone  from  under,  it  is  time 
to  lift  it  gently.  Lo  I  what  a  study  you  will  find 
beneath.  Perhaps  a  score  of  different  natural  fami- 
lies may  be  found  living  peacefully  there.  The  boy 
or  girl  may  lift  it  day  after  day,  and  study  the  ways 
and  manners  of  the  creatures  beneath.  A  child 
should  receive  a  reward  for  every  little  essay  he 
writes  about  the  plank-dwellers.  Moreover,  thereby 
there  is  at  least  one  moral  taught  concerning  the 
virtue  of  peace,  for  all  these  creatures  live  in  amity. 
If  it  isn't  the  lion  lying  down  with  the  lamb,  it  is 
the  huge,  yellow-brown  centipede  cheek  by  jowl  with 
a  beautiful  white-striped  burying  beetle,  or  allowing 
even  a  little  regiment  of  ants  to  crawl  unmolested 
over  him.  Of  course  the  study  of  natural  history 
has  no  end.     It  is  supposed  that  of  beetles  alone 


IN  TOUCH   WITH  NATURE  2/ 

there  are  about  twenty  million  species  in  the  world. 
I  can't  tell  how  long  ago  it  may  be  since  this  world 
cooled  down  sufficiently,  to  permit  of  the  creation  of 
animal  life.  I  believe  about  two  hundred  millions 
of  years.  However,  creation  is  going  on  still,  and 
new  species  of  lower  animal  life  being  evoluted  every 
day.  Why,  one  can  even  help  the  process  of  evolu- 
tion in  lower  life,  and  so  creation  will  continue  till 
this  earth  becomes  a  cold,  airless  moon  to  the  sun,  and 
the  sun  an  inhabited  world,  revolving  round  some 
huge  sun  now  trillions  of  miles  away.  Food  for 
thought  in  this,  I  think  !  " 

Well,  then,  Laurie  was  a  student  of  the  nature 
that  is  found  under  stones,  —  of  beetles  and  all  kinds 
of  insects,  —  and  often  when  Ernest  and  he  were  fish- 
ing he  would  stop  to  lift  the  decayed  branch  of  a 
tree,  that  had  been  lying  for  long  weeks  on  the  bank, 
and  preach  his  friend  a  real  pretty  sermon  on  the 
beautiful  creepie-creepies  that  were  found  beneath. 
Ernest  and  Laurie  always,  after  having  a  good  few 
hours'  fisliing,  started  Leebie  off  to  the  cave  with 
some  of  the  catch  to  prepare  supper,  and  indeed  the 
little  maid — thanks  to  her  mother's  tuition — was 
quite  an  adept  at  cooking.  Then  the  boys  would 
undress  and  leap  into  the  stream,  accompanied  by 
the  dogs,  of  course,  to  enjoy  a  good  swim.  A  long 
one,  too ;  for  his  father  told  Laurie  that  swimming 
was  a  fine  thing  to  bring  up  the  muscles  of  the  chest, 
and  even  of  the  limbs,  and  that  the  bathing,  more- 
over, kept  open  the  pores  of  the  skin. 


28  IN  TOUCH   WITH   NATURE 

Ernest  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  indeed,  when 
told  that  even  insects  that  we  consider  almost  loath- 
some are  most  particular  as  to  personal  cleanliness. 

And  so  they  are,  reader.  Who  has  not  watched 
the  carefulness  and  frequency  with  which  the  house- 
hold fly  removes  the  dust  from  off  his  cheeks  and 
down  his  legs,  and  how  constantly  he  gives  his  wings 
a  polish.  Other  insects  do  the  same.  In  drowsily 
hot  days  in  summer,  even  butterflies  wade  into  ponds 
to  cool  their  limbs  and  bodies,  and  we  may  be  well 
sure  that  the  gloss  and  glitter  on  the  backs  or  elytra 
of  our  garden  beetles  is  not  kept  up  without  a  good 
deal  of  trouble  and  polishing,  not  necessarily  done 
by  their  short  legs.  I  watched,  with  much  interest, 
the  other  evening  an  earwig  on  the  outside  of  a  pane 
of  glass.  The  lamplight  shone  full  upon  him,  and 
for  half  an  hour  he  scrubbed  himself  all  over.  Going 
out  to  a  party,  perhaps. 

But  Laurie's  studies  were  not  all  by  the  river's 
bank,  in  the  woods,  or  on  the  moorland.  No,  for  his 
father's  farm  and  gardens  were  well  treed,  and  the 
old-fashioned  house  had  eaves,  under  which  the  mar- 
tins built.  The  doings  of  some  of  these  birds  puzzled 
our  young  hero  not  a  little. 

At  a  risk  of  wearying  those  of  my  readers  who  love 
not  nature,  I  must  mention  a  curious  affair  that  hap- 
pened this  very  autumn  in  which  I  introduce  my 
young  folks.  Laurie,  then,  on  looking  out  of  his 
bedroom  window  one  morning,  was  surprised  to  find 
that  two  martins  had  begun  to  build  under  the  eaves. 


IN  TOUCH   WITH   NATURE  29 

It  is  true  the  sun  shone  very  brightly,  and  that  there 
was  every  prospect  of  summer  continuing.  But  it 
would  be  far  into  October  before  the  young,  if  any 
should  be  produced,  could  be  ready  to  fly.  Were 
these  martins  mad,  or  like  many  newly  married 
couples,  only  just  a  trifle  foolish  ?  The  building  got 
on  very  slowly.  There  seemed  a  hitch  somewhere. 
They  built  a  portion  of  one  nest,  then  commenced 
another  six  inches  from  the  first.  The  foundations 
of  both  nests  were  about  four  inches  square,  project- 
ing like  small  balconies.  But  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  the  31st  of  August,  a  very  curious  thing 
happened.  A  cluster  of  martins  came  to  inspect  the 
nests.  There  could  not  have  been  less  than  thirty  of 
them,  all  old  birds.  The  excitement  was  intense 
as  they  flew  twittering  to  and  fro.  Half  a  dozen 
at  least  clung  to  the  wall  close  to  the  nests,  while 
others,  one  after  another,  sat  on  them,  as  if  trying 
their  stability  and  comfort.  It  really  seemed  just 
then  that  those  birds  were  holding  a  kind  of  court- 
martial  upon  the  young  couple,  and  remonstrating 
with  them  on  the  extreme  folly  of  commencing  house- 
keeping at  a  season  so  advanced,  winter  itself  but  a 
measurable  distance  ahead,  and  the  telegraph  wires 
already  black  with  swallows  preparing  for  the  great 
exodus  south  and  away  to  warmer  climes.  But  the 
mystery  was  explained  at  last.  For  as  soon  as  the 
inspection  was  ended,  the  flock  of  martins  disappeared 
as  speedily  as  it  had  come,  and  nothing  more  occurred, 
nor  did  a  bird  go  near  the  nest  until  six  o'clock  on 


30  IN  TOUCH   WITH  NATURE 

the  evening  of  September  1,  when  precisely  the 
same  sort  of  thing  occurred,  Listing  only  a  very  few 
minutes,  however.  Next  morning,  on  looking  out, 
behold,  upon  one  of  the  little  clay  shelves  sat  a  poor 
little  young  swallow.  Sick  or  ill  it  evidently  was, 
and  sadly  out  of  moult,  but  just  strong  enough  to  try 
to  preen  its  feathers.  And  every  night  for  a  whole 
week  there  came  an  old  swallow  with  this  ailing 
young  one,  and  both  would  seat  themselves  on  a  shelf 
of  clay.  Then  in  a  short  time  the  mother  would  fly 
away,  and  in  the  morning,  on  looking  out,  my  little 
bird  was  there.  But  it  seemed  to  get  stronger  every 
day,  and  then  it  went  away  and  came  no  more. 
There  is  no  bird  more  fond  or  careful  of  its  young 
than  the  swallow  or  martin,  but  the  facts  stated  show 
a  wisdom  in  these  charming  birds  that  is  little  short 
of  human. 

It  will  do  no  harm  to  mention  here,  what  happened 
to  those  hospital  shelves  on  which  the  martins  nui-sed 
tlie  sick  one.  The  story  is  instructive  and  shows 
that  even  birds  study  economy. 

Well,  when  next  spring  the  martins  came  back, 
they  turned  the  shelves  into  nests,  making  the  holes, 
singularly  enough,  in  the  west  side.  But  the  insolent 
sparrows  came  and  bored  holes  in  the  east  side,  cleared 
the  martins  out,  and  began  lining  the  nest  for  their 
own  use.  And  now  the  fun  began ;  for  those  martins 
returned  with  half  a  dozen  others,  and  after  a  fierce 
fight  gained  possession  of  the  nests  once  more,  and  all 
was  well.     But  there  was  no  claying  up. 


IN  TOUCH   WITH   NATURE  3 1 

SOMETHING   ABOUT   WASPS 

Only  a  few  notes  on  these  interesting  creatures,  and 
they  have  a  bearing  on  natural  history  of  the  pleasant 
order.  It  was  the  good  old  Dr.  Watts,  I  think,  who 
remarked  in  one  of  those  poems  of  his,  which  I  had 
to  learn  by  heart  when  a  little  boy,  by  way  of  encour- 
aging me  to  make  the  most  of  life,  — which  I  didn't,  — 

"  How  doth  the  little  busy  bee 
Improve  each  shining  hour, 
And  gather  honey  all  the  day 
From  every  opening  flower  ?  " 

If  the  dear  old  doctor  were  with  me  in  my  caravan 
(The  Wanderer)  at  this  moment,  he  would  be  able 
to  answer  the  question  himself. 

The  little  busy  bee  is  singing  right  merrily  at  this 
moment  in  my  house  upon  wheels.  He  has  come  for 
the  day,  if  he  meets  with  no  accident,  and  has 
brought  most  of  his  hive  mates.  They  purpose  hav- 
ing a  good  time  of  it.  Well,  wasps  are  interesting 
creatures,  especially  when  they  have  curled  up  in 
death.  Wasps  are  by  no  means  difficult  to  slay  if 
you  take  the  right  plan  with  them.  While  the  little 
imp  is  dancing  right  merrily  up  and  down  tlie  win- 
dow pane,  he  will  readily  succumb  to  a  poke  of  your 
forefinger.  But  beware  you  don't  give  him  time  to 
turn  his  tail  on  you,  else  red-hot  needles  won't  be  in 
it  with  what  you'll  have  to  grin  and  bear.  A  bright 
and  clever  wee  lancer  is  the  giddy,  gaudy  wasp.  I 
think  he  is  at  his  best  on  a  lovely  morning  in  early 


32 


IN  TOUCH   WITH  NATURE 


autumn,  when  you  have  fruit  in   your   caravan.     1 
speak  from  experience  of  him,  and  from  close  inti- 
macy with  him.     I  have  studied  him  more  than  once 
this  summer,  with  tears  of  agony  in  my  eyes.     Not  a 
fortnight  ago  I  was  stung  inside  the  mouth  while 
asleep.     I  used  to  believe  that  I  always  slept  with 
my  mouth  shut.     I'm  not  quite  of  the  same  opinion 
now.     But  what  did  the  little  imp  of  brimstone  want 
inside  my  lip  anyhow  ?     Perhaps  he  mistook  it  for  a 
ripe  tomato.     Howbeit,  I  awoke  with  a  start,  think- 
ing the  ship  was  on  fire  and  no  water  handy.     Of 
course,  I  couldn't  find  the  carbonate   of   ammonia, 
hence  my  subsequent  sorrow.     For  days  I  had  a  lip 
as  large  as  any  old  mare's.     I  am  glad  to  say  I  soon 
recovered  health  and  condition,  and  am  now  as  good 
looking  as  ever.     But  with  wasps  on  the  war-path,  an 
accident  may  happen  at  any  time.     Wasps  are  fond 
of  sweets  and  fruit,  which  they  carry  away  in  arm- 
fuls.     They  also  relish  boiled  liver,  and  may  be  seen 
dining  with  my  St.  Bernard  dog  Lassie  any   day. 
Lassie  doesn't  love  them,  and  at  present  spends  half 
her  spare  time  snapping  at  them.     When  I  warn  her 
of  the  danger,  she  looks  up  wonderingly  and  inquir- 
ingly.    Why  should  I  preserve  the  lives  of  wasps? 
she  is  thinking,  and  I  feel  sorry  I  cannot  explain  to 
her  that  she  hasn't  caught  my  meaning  quite.     Dogs 
and  wasps  are  invariably  at  daggers  drawn,  but  it  is 
the  wasp  that  carries  the  dagger.     Daresay  wasps 
were  made  for  some  purpose,  but  I  haven't  found  out 
■  yet  just  what  this  purpose  is.     There  is  one  instinct 


IN  TOUCH   WITH   NATURE  33 

they  possess  in  common  with  cats  and  carrier  pigeons  ; 
namely,  the  homing.  I  wish  they  would  make  more 
use  of  it.  There  is  even  one  good  thing  to  be  said 
of  them,  however;  they  keep  early  hours.  A  blue- 
bottle will  sit  up  all  night  if  3'ou  do,  but  a  wasp  re- 
tires. Onl}^  if  you  have  killed  a  wasp,  don't  give  it 
to  a  baby  to  play  with,  unless  it  is  your  neighbour's. 
The  wasp  stings  post  mortem.  And  that's  the  worst 
of  all. 

Writing  about  wasps  may  seem  silly  to  some.  But 
on  such  a  day  as  this,  in  such  a  quiet  pitch,  —  a  field 
of  short  red  clover,  on  the  bonny  banks  o'  Dee,  — 
with  the  soft,  delicious  sunshine  everywhere,  and  a 
breeze  to  cool  and  brace ;  with  the  grand  old  hills  be- 
yond, hills  that  literally  carry  the  splendid  pine  tree 
woods  up  into  the  clouds  with  them,  who  could  or 
would  write  on  matters  dry  as  dust?  See,  yonder, 
across  my  field  the  butterflies,  crimson  and  white,  go 
floating  and  flying,  hardly  caring  whither  the  west 
wind  wafts  them.  Heedlessly  though  each  one  of 
them  may  seem  to  fly,  is  he  not  really  obeying  the 
dictates  of  a  kind  philosophy,  the  possession  of  which 
you  and  I  might  well  envy  him?  He  appears  to  have 
reached  the  Nirvana  of  the  Buddhists,  and  the  calm, 
happy  composure  of  that  state — the  utter  content- 
ment. That  butterfly  may  enjoy  the  sunlight  and 
the  breeze,  the  snowy  whiteness  of  the  driving  clouds, 
the  blueness  of  the  sky,  both  may  give  him  pleasure 
as  he  sips  his  nectar  from  the  choicest  wild  flowers, 
or   nods   half   asleep   on   the-  perfumed   thistle.     It 


34  IN   TOUCH   WITH   NATURE 

would  be  telling  many  of  us  who  toil  and  moil 
through  life,  and  worry  far  too  much,  if,  now  and 
then,  we  could  adopt  the  philosophy  of  that  gaudily 
painted  flutterer,  and  give  ourselves  to  butterfly- 
mindedness.  To-day,  in  this  sweet  meadow,  all 
among  the  bees,  so  to  speak,  I  do  not  feel  inclined 
for  work  and  study  of  a  heavy  kind,  and  isn't  this 
just  nature  calling  out  for  a  little  rest  —  a  little  lazy- 
ing  ?  Depend  upon  it,  a  little  lazying,  boys,  now  and 
then,  never  did  a  hard-working  man  or  woman  aught 
else  save  good.  But  on  the  other  hand,  as  life  is  all 
made  up  of  changes,  we  must  put  our  shoulder  to  the 
wheel  when  duty  calls.  Let  us  feel  happy  in  being 
able  to  do  so,  happy  in  our  strength ;  and  when  tired, 
and  the  holiday  still  on  ahead,  we  can  remember 
the  fact  that  tough,  honest  work  will  never  kill ; 
idleness,  if  indulged  in  too  much,  claims  its  victims 
every  day. 


CHAPTER   IV 

LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS 

Ah,  happy  hills !     Ah,  pleasing  shades ! 

Ah,  fields  beloved  in  vain  I 
Where  once  my  careless  childhood  strayed, 

A  stranger  yet  to  pain. 

Goblin  Cave,  which  Laurie  and  Leebie  had  made 
their  prairie  home,  was  so  named  because  the  coun- 
try folks  believed  it  to  be  haunted  by  creatures 
belonging  to  a  far  worse  world  than  ours.  It  had 
been,  originally,  a  smugglers'  den,  if  not,  indeed,  a 
haunt  of  robbers,  to  which  they  might  retire,  in  the 
good  old  times,  to  count  out  and  share  their  ill- 
gotten  gains  after  despoiling  the  house  of  some 
wealthy  squire  not  a  hundred  miles  away.  But 
until  the  children  took  to  it,  the  cave  had  been 
deserted  for  many  and  many  a  long  year. 

It  was  old  Tom  Herbert  who  first  gave  it  a  bad 
name.  Tom  was  taking  a  near  cut  across  the  moor 
one  Saturday  night,  after  spending  hours  with  boon 
companions  in  a  village  some  miles  distant.  Tiiere 
is  a  probability  that  the  old  fellow  had  imbibed  more 
than  was  really  good  for  him.  He  was  positive 
enough,  however,  that  as  he  neared  the  cave  he 
heard  the  sound  of  mirth  and  merriment,  and  that 

35 


36  LAURIE   AND   LEEBTE   MADE   PRISONERS 

a  strange,  little,  deformed  old  man,  with  a  face  like 
a  withered  potato  and  a  light  in  his  skinny  hand, 
met  him,  and  bowed  till  his  bulbous  nose  almost 
touched  the  heath. 

"  My  dear  Tom  Herbert,"  the  goblin  said,  speak- 
ing with  a  strong  Irish  accent,  "  and  is  it  indade 
your  beautiful  self  that  I'm  after  seeing  right  fore- 
ninst  me  ?  " 

"  It's  nobody  else,"  said  Tom,  "  and  worse  luck, 
too." 

"  Ach !  but,  Tom,  my  darlint,  it's  into  the  cave 
you'll  be  coming  to  rest  ye." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  cried  Tom  ;  "  my  wife  would  — " 

"  And  wet  your  whistle,  Tom.  Sure  it's  cowld 
and  dark  that  the  night  is,  and  when  3'ou've  wet 
your  whistle,  Tom,  troth  111  light  ye  safely  o'er 
the  moor  meself." 

Well,  Tom  Herbert  was  always  willing  to  wet  his 
whistle,  and  so  he  followed  the  goblin  into  the  cave. 
This  was  brilliantly  lighted  up,  and  scores  of  the 
strangest  and  most  uncouth  looking  beings  he  had 
ever  seen  were  sitting,  lolling,  or  squatting  round 
the  rocky  walls.  Some  were  even  standing  on  their 
heads ;  some  had  horns ;  all  had  tails ;  and  all  were 
frightfully  ugly.  But  they  grinned,  and  grimaced, 
and  jibbered,  and  leered,  and  laughed  till  poor  Tom 
began  to  think  he  had  got  into  very  bad  company 
indeed.  He  was  somewhat  comforted,  however, 
when  Goblin  No.  1  placed  a  huge  bottle  and  glass 
before  him  and  bade  him  drink  and  be  merry. 


LAURIE   AND  LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS  37 

Tom  needed  no  second  bidding.  The  wine  was 
delicious  though  fiery,  but  the  curious  thing  was 
this :  the  more  Tom  drank,  the  thirstier  he  grew. 
And  now,  as  the  fun  was  getting  fast  and  furious, 
Tom  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  happy  indeed  was 
he  when  he  found  himself  once  more  on  the  moor, 
with  Goblin  No.  1  walking  in  front  with  a  pale 
blue,  bobbing  light. 

Now  there  were  on  the  moor,  and  are  still,  many 
deep,  brown,  stagnant  pools,  and  poor  Tom  had  not 
proceeded  a  hundred  yards,  before  souse  into  one  of 
these  he  fell,  head  first. 

The  banks  all  around  were  slippery,  black,  and 
peaty,  and  he  could  not  get  out;  so  he  just  swam 
round  and  round  among  the  swarms  of  huge,  alliga- 
tor-shaped tritons  and  awful,  crawling,  slimy  things 
in  which  the  j^ool  abounded. 

He  shrieked  for  help. 

None  came,  however;  but  at  least  fifty  horrible 
goblins  from  the  cave,  each  with  a  bobbing  light, 
had  joined  hands  and  were  dancing  and  jibbering 
round  the  pool. 

It  was  a  terrible  sight,  and  a  terrible  predicament 
to  be  in. 

"  Help !  Help  !  Save  me  !  Save  me  ! "  poor  Tom 
Herbert  shrieked  louder  than  ever.  Then,  strangely 
enough,  he  awoke  in  bed. 

Still,  there  were  his  clothes  which  his  wife  had 
hung  around  the  fire,  and  these  proved  that  Tom 
had   really   been   in   the    brown   pool    on  the  moor. 


38  LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS 

His  neighbours  all  believed  his  fearsome  story,  too, 
and  after  this,  any  one  wlio  had  occasion  to  cross 
that  moor  after  nightfall  gave  the  cave  a  very  wide 
berth  indeed. 

But  lights  were  frequently  seen  near  it,  so  it  is  no 
wonder  the  place  got  so  bad  a  name. 

As  soon  as  the  youngsters,  on  the  day  of  the  grand 
horse  and  donkey  race,  had  dismissed  their  steeds  and 
entered  the  cave,  Laurie  and  the  two  dogs  threw 
themselves  on  the  couch  of  bracken,  while  Leebie 
busied  herself  laying  a  fire. 

I  have  already  said  there  was  a  chimney  in  the 
cave;  only  a  hole,  but  the  draught  was  good,  and  it 
was  under  this  that  Leebie  laid  the  fire,  ready  to 
light  when  the  time  came.  The  hearth  had  a  rude 
kind  of  crane  above  it,  with  a  chain  and  a  hook 
depending  therefrom,  and  on  the  latter  either  pot 
or  pan  could  be  hung. 

The  furniture  in  this  strange  dwelling  was  simple 
enough.  Besides  the  couch  of  bracken,  tliere  were 
several  stools,  and  these  the  boy  had  made  himself. 
There  was  also  a  rude  sort  of  a  cupboard  with  plenty 
of  dishes  and  cooking  utensils,  as  well  as  stores  of 
sugar,  tea,  and  coffee.  Then  there  was  a  very  nice 
table.  What  more  could  any  half-wild  children 
want,  I  wonder? 

There  were,  of  course,  no  pictures  on  the  rough, 
rocky  walls,  and  articles  of  virtu  were  conspicuous 
simply  by  their   non-existence.     Nevertheless,  there 


LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS  39 

was  plenty  of  fishing-tackle,  and  no  less  than  three 
fishing-baskets. 

And  a  gun ! 

This  gun,  or  fowling-piece,  was  greatly  revered  by 
Laurie.  The  plain,  or  moorland,  was  a  kind  of  no- 
man's-land,  and  the  boy  could  shoot  rabbits  over  it 
at  any  time. 

The  gun  had  been  given  him  by  an  uncle,  but  once 
it  had  led  hira  into  trouble. 

As  this  trouble,  however,  had  resulted  in  his 
becoming  acquainted  with  Ernest  Elliot,  he  never 
regretted  it. 

I  shall  tell  you  how  it  happened. 

The  east  side  of  the  moor  or  plain  ended  in  a 
beautiful  wood  of  oak  and  sycamore,  intermingled 
with  many  a  dark -plumed  pine  tree.  There  was  far 
less  undergrowth  here  than  one  usually  finds  in 
English  woods  and  forests,  so  that  walking  -beneath 
the  trees  was  comparatively  easy. 

This  wood  was  not  on  a  level,  but  clothed  the 
sides  of  a  dingle  or  dell,  adown  the  centre  of  which 
roared  or  ran  a  splendid  stream,  almost  big  enough 
to  be  called  a  river. 

In  the  season  there  was  no  doubt  plenty  of  game 
to  be  found  in  the  wood,  but  as  there  were  many 
warnings  pasted  up  on  boards  informing  whomsoever 
it  might  concern  that  trespassers  would  be  "prose- 
cuted with  the  utmost  rigour  of  the  law,"  the  chil- 
dren gave  the  wood,  and  the  stream  also,  a  wide 
berth. 


40  LAURIE   AND  LEEBIE   MADE  PRISONERS 

But  one  beautiful  day,  in  early  summer,  about  four 
months  before  the  date  on  which  our  tale  commences, 
Laurie  and  Leebie,  intent  on  their  studies  of  the 
beautiful  in  nature,  had  wandered  right  away  to  the 
other  end  of  the  moor.  Sir  Duncan  and  Towsie 
were  with  them  of  course,  but  the  pony  and  his 
friend  Neddy  were  browsing  near  the  cave. 

The  children  had  been  very  happy  during  their 
ramble,  pausing  often  to  gaze  skywards  and  listen 
to  bird-music  in  the  clouds,  for  their  prairie  was  in 
reality  a  land  of  larks. 

But  when  they  came  near  to  the  woodland,  the 
character  of  the  bird-music  suddenly  changed.  It 
was  a  wild  medley  now,  but  a  very  beautiful  one. 
The  song  of  the  thrush,  the  melodious  fluting  of 
the  blackbird,  the  bold  lilting  of  the  madcap  chaf- 
finch, and  the  sweet  voices  of  linnets  and  warblers, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  low  purring  of  the  turtle-dove 
and  mournful  croodle  of  the  wood-pigeon. 

"Oh,  isn't  it  lovely,  Laurie!"  cried  Leebie,  clap- 
ping her  hands  with  joy.  "  Do  come  into  the  wood 
just  a  little  way  and  sit  down." 

"  No,  Leebie,  no.     We  —  " 

How  his  sentence  would,  have  ended,  I  cannot  tell ; 
for  just  at  that  moment,  the  daft  wee  terrier  sud- 
denly came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  scented  a  rab- 
bit down  yonder  somewhere.  He  appealed  to  Towsie, 
and  Towsie  seemed  to  wink  with  his  wall  eye.  Then 
off  they  both  darted,  and  were  speedily  out  of  sight. 

Not    out   of    hearing,   however,    and   from    their 


LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS  4 1 

anxious,  sharp,  ringing  barks,  Laurie  rightly  judged 
that  they  were  in  chase. 

Some  one  else  was  of  tUe  same  opinion,  and  that 
was  Squire  Elliot's  corduroyed  keeper. 

Laurie  stood  not  on  ceremony  now,  but  rushed 
into  the  wood  trying  to  recall  the  dogs. 

It  was  fully  half  an  hour  before  the  latter  returned, 
Towsie  carrying  a  rabbit,  Currie  trotting  by  his  side 
and  looking  very  proud  indeed. 

And  behind  them,  at  some  distance,  appeared  the 
keeper,  to  the  infinite  terror  of  poor  Leebie.  He  was 
an  ugly,  rough-looking,  pock-marked  man,  with  an 
evil  eye  in  his  head.  No,  he  had  not  two,  for  years 
ago  one  had  been  shot  out  by  a  poacher. 

Why  Laurie  had  brought  his  gun  with  him  that 
day,  he  himself  could  never  tell.  It  was  certainly 
with  no  intention  of  spilling  the  blood  of  even  a  pole- 
cat. 

"  Well,  lad,  I've  caught  thee  nicely,"  shouted  the 
keeper.  "Noo,  I'll  tell  thee  wot  I'm  goin'  to  do» 
I'm  goin'  to  shoot  that  dog!  " 

With  a  little  scream,  Leebie  ran  forward  and  threw 
her  arms  about  Towsie's  neck.  She  knelt  on  the 
ground  and  Currie  cuddled  up  beside  her. 

Hardly  accountable  for  his  action,  Laurie  lowered 
his  gun  and  pointed  it  at  the  fellow's  head.  It  was  a 
bold  act,  but  a  very  foolish  one. 

"Dare  to  slioot  a  dog  of  mine,"  he  cried,  "  and  I'll 
shoot  out  your  other  ugly  eye." 

The  keeper  was  cowed  evidently. 


42  LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS 

"  Aw  —  aw  —  I  didn't  mean  to  shoot  the  da wg,"  he 
said,  "but  ye've  been  a-trespassin'  and  a-poachin'. 
Ye'll  all  have  to  come  along  to  t'  squire's  'ouse." 

"  That  we  shall  right  willingly." 

Towsie  permitted  Laurie  to  take  the  rabbit,  but 
when  he  handed  it  to  the  keeper  the  dog  sprang  at 
once  on  the  fellow  and  speedily  repossessed  himself 
of  the  bunny.  So  the  boy  slung  it  over  his  shoulder, 
and  the  march  commenced. 

Far  down  the  stream  stood  the  Grange,  and  Leebie 
was  quite  tired  before  they  reached  the  beautiful 
mansion. 

The  keeper  would  have  gone  round  to  the  back  with 
his  prisoners,  but  the  squire  himself  and  a  tall  manly 
boy  about  Laurie's  age  —  Ernest,  in  fact  —  were  on 
the  rose  lawn. 

A  red-faced,  jolly-looking  man  was  the  squire. 

"What,  ho!  there.  Brown,"  he  shouted;  "whom 
have  you  got  ?     Bring  them  this  way." 

"  Daring  poachers,  sir,"  said  Brown,  touching  his 
hat. 

The  squire  was  evidently  impressed  with  the  inno- 
cent young  beauty  of  Leebie.  He  patted  her  bonnie 
hair  and  told  her  not  to  be  afraid. 

"If  we  are  going  to  be  thrown  into  a  dungeon," 
said  Laurie,  "  I'd  like  to  give  my  dogs  a  drink  of 
water  first." 

Squire  Elliot  laughed  such  a  hearty  ringing  laugh, 
that  Laurie  was  obliged  to  join  in. 

"  Go  and  bring  water  for  these  dogs.  Brown,"  cried 


LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS  43 

the  squire.  "And  look  quick  about  it.  Come  in, 
children,"  he  added,  taking  Leebie's  hand,  "  and  tell 
me  all  about  it." 

They  entered  the  drawing-room  through  the  French 
window,  but  the  kindly  squire  would  not  let  Laurie 
commence  his  story,  until  he  and  his  sister  and  even 
the  dogs  had  partaken  of  refreshments.  Then  Laurie 
did  tell  him  and  Ernest  all ;  all  about  the  moor  and 
their  cave,  their  studies  and  sports,  and  their  dear 
father  and  mother  and  the  farm  at  home. 

The  squire,  and  his  wife  also,  were  very  much 
amused  and  interested,  and  it  ended  thus :  they  were 
invited  to  tea  for  next  day,  Laurie's  fishing-basket 
was  filled  with  bananas,  —  fruit  that  neither  he  nor 
his  sister  had  ever  seen  before,  —  and  Ernest  himself 
was  sent  to  convoy  them  safe  through  the  woods. 

He  went  all  the  way  to  their  wondrous  cave  with 
them,  and  marvelled  much  at  their  household  arrange- 
ments. 

A  very  frank  open-faced  lad  was  Ernest,  with  blue 
eyes  and  fair  short-cut  hair.  His  manners  and  speech 
were  just  as  frank  as  was  his  face,  and  he  did  not 
hesitate  for  a  moment  to  tell  Leebie  how  clever  he 
thought  her,  and  how  pretty ! 

"  Oh,"  returned  the  child-woman,  blushing  a  little, 
but  with  pleasure,  not  shyness.  "  I'm  not  nearly  so 
pretty  as  you.     Then  you  talk  so  nicely !  " 

"  Well,  we  had  better  be  sweethearts,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  that  is,  you  know ;  but 
you'll  come  and  see  us,  won't  you?" 


44  LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE    MADE   PRISONERS 

"  Yes,  often,  often  I  " 

"And  Fm  sure  the  dogs  will  like  you?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  Bobbie  and  Neddy,  too  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  Have  you  any  sisters  and  brothers  ?  " 

"  Ye-es.     Three  of  each." 

"  But  they  can't  be  so  nice  as  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  much,  much  nicer,  because  they  are  all  big, 
Miss  Lea." 

"  You  might  just  call  me  Leebie.  Everybody 
does." 

"  Yes,  if  3'ou  call  me  Ernie.     Everybody  does." 

This  compact  was  soon  made. 

But  Ernest  Elliot  was  really  a  romantic  sort  of  a 
boy,  and  always  building  castles  in  the  air,  founded 
on  what  he  meant  to  do  when  he  grew  a  man. 

He  was  the  younger  son.  Moreover,  he  had  an 
uncle  who  was  an  officer  in  Her  ]\Iajesty's  Royal 
Navy,  and  who  used  to  tell  him  the  most  thrilling 
stories  of  adventure,  and  of  life  in  far-off  lands;  so 
Ernest  had  quite  made  up  his  mind  to  travel  some- 
where abroad  when  bigger  and  stronger. 

He  told  Laurie  and  Leebie  this,  and  both  said  that 
they  should  dearly  love  to  share  liis  adventures. 

"But  that,"  sighed  Laurie,  "can  never,  never  be!  " 

How  little  do  we  know  what  Fate  may  have  in 
store  for  us ! 

Well,  the  acquaintanceship  made  that  day  soon 
became  cemented  into  a  friendship  that  was  almost 


LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE   MADE   PRISONERS  45 

brotherl}',  and  nearly  every  day  on  which  Laurie  and 
Leebie  went  to  the  boundless  prairie,  Ernie  met  them, 
and  fine  fun  they  had,  I  do  assui-e  you,  boys.  Fish- 
ing, I  think,  is  the  most  calmative  and  delightful 
sport  any  one  can  engage  in.  Of  course  one  cannot 
help  being  a  little  sorry  for  the  fish  hauled  out,  and 
for  this  reason  I  never  leave  either  a  trout  or  salmon 
to  pine  and  die  by  degrees.     I  kill  it  at  once. 

Well,  on  this  very  autumn  day  the  children  were 
awaiting  Ernest's  arrival. 

But  a  whole  hour  passed  away ;  then  two. 

Laurie  had  been  reading  or  talking  to  his  sister 
most  of  this  time,  but  now  he  closed  the  book  wearily. 

Leebie  was  weary  too. 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "  she  sighed,  "  I  do  wonder  if  he  will 
come  at  all  to-day." 

"  I  feel  certain  he  won't.  And  now  I  have  some- 
thing to  propose.  " 

"  Yes,  Laurie." 

"  Well,  we  shall  take  our  fishing-tackle,  mount  our 
fiery  steeds,  and  ride  off  to  the  river  to  catch  our  din- 
ner, then  ride  home  and  cook  it." 

This  programme  was  carried  out  to  the  very 
letter. 

And  the  fish  were  hungry  that  day.  And  so,  too, 
was  Laurie ;  therefore  he  did  not  stay  to  make  a  very 
big  basket,  and  in  two  hours  from  the  tiftie  they 
started  they  were  back  once  more  at  the  cave  and 
Bobbie  and  Neddy  were  again  turned  loose. 

What   a  delightful   aroma   pervaded  the   cave,  as 


46  LAURIE   AND   LEEBIE    MADE   PRISONERS 

Leebic  fried  those  fish.  She  knew  how  much  salt 
to  sprinkle  over  them,  and  the  exact  quantity  of 
pepper. 

Laurie  had  thrown  himself  on  the  couch  again, 
with  a  dog  at  each  side  of  him,  and  being  just 
pleasantly  tired,  it  is  no  wonder  he  fell  asleep.  So 
soundly  did  he  slumber,  indeed,  that  his  sister  had 
to  shake  him  over  and  over  again  before  he  opened 
his  bewildered  ej'^es. 

And  both  children  and  dogs  did  more  than  justice 
to  the  dinner ;  for  the  beautiful  crimson-spotted  trout 
were  done  to  a  turn,  the  bread  and  butter  were  deli- 
cious, and  Leebie  had  gone  so  far  as  to  roast  potatoes 
in  the  hot  ashes.  And  really,  those  potatoes  seemed 
to  have  burst  their  sides,  laughing  at  the  way  they 
had  been  treated. 

But  as  they  sat  there  talking  and  eating,  with 
Currie  and  Towsie  between  them,  little  did  they 
know  that  they  would  soon  have  an  adventure  — 
a  strange,  if  not,  indeed,  a  terrifying  one.  It  is  well 
we  do  not  always  know  what  is  before  us. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   HAUNTED    HOUSE 

"  Close  by  a  wild  hobgoblin  moor 
And  near  a  lonesome  ^Yood 
Where  black  bats  flit  and  owlets  scream, 
The  dreary  hamlet  stood."  —  Axox. 

The  short  November  day  had  worn  to  a  close,  and 
the  sun  had  set  behind  wooded  hills  in  the  far  south- 
west, leaving  a  bank  of  fiery-looking  clouds  that 
boded  a  dark,  and  probably  a  stormy  night. 

Indeed,  the  sky  was  already  overcast,  and  a  low 
wind  was  beginning  to  moan  across  the  moorland. 

Nothing,  however,  could  terrify  these  children  of 
the  wilds,  for  they  knew  their  way  home,  and  even 
if  they  should  go  astray,  was  Towsie  not  by  their 
side  ?  Yes,  and  his  instinct  before  now  had  proved 
far  more  useful  than  even  their  reason. 

"  Reason  raise  o'er  instinct  if  you  can ; 
In  this  'tis  God  directs,  in  that  'tis  man." 

But  now  Laurie  and  Leebie  started  for  their  distant 
home,  riding,  as  usual,  on  Bobbie  and  Ned,  with  the 
two  dogs  wheeling  around  them  in  wide  circles,  and 
barking  with  delight. 

47 


48  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE 

They  were  quite  at  the  other  end  of  the  moor 
before  Laurie  made  a  disagreeable  discovery. 

"  Oh,  Leebie,"  he  cried,  "  how  very  foolish  of  me  ! 
Why,  I've  forgotten  to  bring  my  fishing-basket  and 
those  lovely  trout  we  saved  for  mother.  Will  you 
stay  here  till  I  ride  back?" 

''  No,  I  should  be  afraid ;  I'll  go,  too." 

Well,  it  was  almost  quite  dark  before  they  got 
once  more  started,  on  their  return. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we  shall  do  to-night,  Leebie," 
said  Laurie. 

"Yes?" 

"We  shall  take  the  short  cut." 

"  By  the  haunted  house  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Laurie,"  she  added,  "  but  of  course 
I  won't  be  afraid,  with  you  and  Towsie  and  Currie 
and  Bob  beside  me." 

What  they  called  "  the  haunted  house  "  was  a  two- 
storied  cottage  with  dark,  blinking  windows,  that 
stood  near  to  a  gloomy-looking  little  wood,  or  copse, 
with  no  other  place  near.  An  old  miser  used  to  live 
here  all  by  himself  with  merely  the  companionship 
of  a  white  pony  that,  like  himself,  was  little  more 
than  skin  and  bone.  He  tilled  a  bit  of  a  croft  which, 
since  his  demise,  had  gone  all  to  ruin,  and  was  over- 
grown now  with  nettles  and  thistles. 

The  old  man  had  died  as  he  had  lived,  —  all,  all 
alone ;  and  it  was  nearly  a  fortnight  afterwards 
that  he  was  found,  lying  frozen  hard  —  for  it  was 
midwinter  —  beside  his  hearth.     And,  sad  to  relate. 


THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE  49 

the  white  pony  had  perished  of  cold  and  hunger  in 
its  stall.  The  poor  animal  had  even  eaten  part  of 
the  woodwork  near  it. 

No  one  would  take  the  house  and  croft  after  that, 
so  it  liad  been  permitted  to  fall  into  deca3^ 

It  looked  very  gloomy  to-night  as  the  children 
approached  it,  and  indeed  I  know  nothing  much 
more  dismal  to  behold  than  an  empty  house  in  a 
place  like  this.  The  windows  were  curtainless  and 
black.  Like  ugly  leering  eyes  they  were,  and  the 
veiy  cottage  itself  seemed  to  nod,  as  the  wind  moaned 
through  the  tall  trees  behind  it. 

People  did  say  that  on  many  a  dark  night  the  old 
miser  used  to  be  seen,  lantern  in  hand  and  nightcap 
on  head,  roaming  around  the  house  or  out  on  the 
moor  leading  that  skeleton  white  pony  by  the  fore- 
lock. 

But  neither  of  the  children  believed  this.  Some- 
thing —  they  could  not  tell  what  —  appealed  to  lure 
them  closer  to  the  house,  to-night,  and  they  stopped 
to  gaze  in  through  one  of  the  windows,  as  if  in  a 
spirit  of  fascination. 

Suddenly,  to  their  terror  and  amazement,  a  door 
in  the  room  opened,  and  a  tall  figure,  holding  a  candle, 
entered,  and  approached  the  fireplace.  They  could 
not  see  his  face  very  well,  but  they  noticed  that  his 
clothes  were  curiously  fashioned,  and  light  in  colour. 
Moreover,  they  were  covered  all  over  with  dark  mark- 
ings resembling  arrow-heads. 

But   now  Towsie  ^ave  vent  to  a  sort  of  startled 


50  THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE 

bark,  and  suddenly  the  light  went  out,  and  they  saw 
no  more. 

Neddy  had  been  set  free,  but  Bob  with  Leebie  on 
his  back  now  started  off  in  fine  style  for  home.  He, 
too,  had  been  frightened. 

And  Laurie  trotted  alongside,  all  the  way  to  their 
own  door. 

Glad,  indeed,  were  they  when  they  got  inside,  for 
here  was  a  cosy  fire.  Daddy  was  in  his  arm-chair, 
smoking  and  reading,  the  big  cat  was  nodding  half 
asleep  on  a  footstool,  and  supper  was  ready.  They 
told  their  strange  story. 

They  had  seen  the  ghost ! 

But  Farmer  Lea  only  laughed. 

"That  was  no  ghost,  my  children,"  he  said,  "but 
some  poor  escaped  convict  in  hiding,  and  no  doubt 
we  shall  soon  hear  of  his  capture." 

But  the  adventure  did  not  end  quite  here. 

For  after  school  hours  next  day,  Laurie  and  Leebie 
once  more  set  out  for  the  moor. 

The  day  was  fine  after  the  storm,  and  the  sky  was 
clear  and  blue. 

They  were  anxious  to  see  Ernest,  but  they  took 
the  longest  road.  They  had  seen  more  than  enough 
of  the  haunted  house. 

It  was  well  on  in  the  afternoon  before  they  neared 
the  cave,  and  lo  !  yonder  was  Ernest  Elliot  himself 
coming  to  meet  them,  riding  at  the  gallop  on  Neddy. 

Neddy  and  he  seemed  both  in  fine  form,  and  the 
former  must  needs  stop  so  suddenly  short  that  Ernest 


THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE  5 1 

fell  off,  but  quickly  gathered  himself  up,  laughing. 
Neddy  was  laughing  too.  That  was  what  he  had 
stopped  for ;  and  when  Neddy  laughed  as  he  did 
now,  with  a  "  Haw-hee  I  haw-hee  I "  the  sound  was 
reechoed  back  from  the  very  clouds  —  apparently. 

"  Couldn't  get  away  yesterday,  Leebie,"  said  Ernest. 
"  Uncle  came  home  from  sea !  " 

"  And,  oh,  Ernie,"  cried  Leebie,  "  we  had  such  a 
terrible  fright  going  home  !  " 

"  Yes,"  added  Laurie,  "a  real  wild  adventure  !  " 

"  Well,  don't  tell  me  now.  It  will  be  so  much 
nicer  to  hear  it  after  tea  and  supper." 

Ernie  had  been  at  the  cave  a  whole  hour.  He  had 
laid  and  lit  the  fire ;  by  this  fire  stood  a  very  long- 
legged  stew-pan,  and  the  kettle  was  singing  as  it 
dangled  from  tlie  crane. 

It  was  a  lovely  supper,  and  all  did  justice  to  it, 
including  the  dogs,  of  course. 

Then  they  heaped  more  wood  and  peats  on  the 
fire,  and  sat  cosily  round  it. 

"  And  father  says  it  was  an  escaped  convict,"  said 
Laurie,  as  he  concluded  the  relation  of  his  strange 
adventure. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Ernest,  sympathisingly.  "  I 
wonder  what  he  has  done,  and  how  he  escaped.  Do 
you  know,  Laurie,  I  hope  he  will  get  clear  away." 

Then  Ernie  began  to  tell  his  friends  all  about  his 
sailor  uncle,  and  his  wild  adventures. 

So  the  time  flew  very  quickly  on  indeed. 

But  this  young  fellow  had  a  violin  on  which  he 


52  THE    HAUNTED   HOUSE 

could  play  indifferently  well.  He  had  bronght  it  to 
the  cave  for  Laurie  and  Leebie's  delectation,  both 
being  very  fond  of  sweet  music,  and  it  was  kept  in 
the  cupboard. 

It  was  quite  dusk  when  he  began  to  play,  but  the 
firelight  threw  a  ruddy  glare  across  the  cave,  and 
everything  else  was  forgotten  as  the  children  listened 
to  the  sweet  sad  strains  of  tlie  violin. 

Suddenly  both  dogs  sprang  up  from  the  hearth 
and  rushed  barking  towards  the  mouth  of  the  cave ; 
and  on  looking  up  all  were  startled,  and  Leebie  sadly 
terrified,  to  see  standing  there  the  very  figure  they 
had  seen  in  the  haunted  house. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  children,"  the  man  hastened  to 
say ;  "  I  am  far  too  weak  and  ill  to  do  any  one  any 
harm,  even  if  I  had  the  will.  Which,  Heaven  knows, 
I  have  not." 

No  one  answered,  and  he  continued,  — 

"  Just  for  a  moment,  I  saw  last  night  a  face  at  the 
window  of  the  old  house  I  have  been  hidden  in  for 
weeks.     It  was  that  sweet  girl's." 

"You  are  an  escaped  convict,"  said  Ernest;  "we 
ought  to  give  you  up." 

"  Stay,  young  sir;  stay  till  you  have  heard  my  stor3\ 
It  is  true,  I  have  escaped,  but  oh,  children !  I  am  an 
innocent  and  badly  treated  man.  The  house  in  which 
I  have  been  hiding  is  no  longer  safe  for  me.  The 
warders  are  on  my  track,  and  a  place  like  that  is 
the  first  they  would  examine.  May  I  beg  shelter  for 
the  night,  and  a  morsel  of  food?" 


THE    VERY    FIGURE    THEY    HAD    SEEN    IN    THE    HAUNTED    HOUSE. 


THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE  53 

"  If  you  say  you  are  innocent,"  said  Ernest  Elliot, 
"  we  will  try  to  believe  you,  and  you  really  have  not 
the  looks  of  a  malefactor." 

"  Oh  no,"  cried  Leebie. 

Nor  had  he.  Despite  his  short  cropi^ed  hair  and 
beard,  both  black,  his  looks  Avere  prepossessing. 
Young  he  was,  and  with  singularly  dark  blue  eyes, 
that  at  present  were  unspeakably  sad. 

"Come  closer  to  the  fire,  and  sit  down,"  said 
Laurie;  "you  must  be  cold." 

The  convict  did  as  he  was  told,  seating  himself  on 
an  old  tree  root. 

Towsie  approached  him  quietly  and  licked  his  hand, 
and  even  Currie  did  not  now  resent  the  intrusion. 

The  friendliness  of  the  dogs  raised  him  very  much 
in  the  estimation  of  the  boys;  for  well  they  knew, 
just  as  you  and  I  know,  reader,  that  a  dog  is  a  better 
judge  of  character  than  even  a  man. 

The  children  were  very  glad,  indeed,  that  there  was 
enough  food  in  the  cave  to  make  the  man  a  comfort- 
able supper,  after  which  he  appeared  far  more  cheer- 
ful. 

"  And  now,"  said  Ernest,  "  we  would  hear  your 
story.  Though  it  is  dark  inside  the  cave,  it  will  be 
light  enough  for  a  whole  hour  yet  on  the  moor.  We 
shall  see  to  get  home." 

"  But  may  I  rest  me  here  to-night,  boys  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly." 

"And  you  will  not  give  me  away?" 

"  If  by  that  you  mean  inform  on  you,"  said  Ernie, 


54  THE   HAUN'fED   HOUSE 

"  both  I  and  my  friends  here  promise  most  faithfully 
to  try  to  save  you,  rather  than  to  give  you  away." 

"  Oh,  thanks  !  a  thousand  thanks  I  "  cried  the  jjoor 
convict.  "  Undoubtedly  the  warders  will  be  at  the 
old  house  to-morrow,  and  I  have  purposely  left  evi- 
dence that  I  have  been  there.  They  will  then,  I 
think,  go  on.  If  not,  and  if  they  seize  me  here, 
surely  the  bitterness  of  Fate  can  have  nothing  worse 
in  store  for  me. 

"  But  come,  cliildren,  I  sadden  you,  I  fear.  Give 
me  your  violin  for  a  minute,  lad.  I  used  to  play, 
two  years  ago,  before  my  incarceration.  Perhaps  my 
fingers  have  not  yet  lost  all  their  cunning." 

Indeed  they  had  not,  and  our  young  heroes  sat 
enthralled  as  the  convict  played.  That  violin  seemed 
possessed  of  spirit-life  in  his  hands ;  it  was  a  being 
from  a  better  world.  But  alas !  even  his  quick  and 
merry  pieces  had  an  air  of  such  sadness  about  them, 
that  Ernest's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  What  would  I  not  give,"  cried  the  boy,  as  the 
convict  handed  him  back  the  fiddle,  "to  be  able  to 
play  like  you  I     But  now,  sir,  tell  us  your  story." 

He  spoke  even  with  deference ;  for  convict  though 
this  man  was,  he  was  likewise  a  master. 

"  I  will,  boys,  I  will,  and  innocent  though  you  are, 
you  may  learn  a  lesson  therefrom.  Yet  goodness 
forbid  that  I  should  even  seem  to  preach.  I  shall 
but  state  facts  in  the  simplest  way  I  can." 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   convict's   TERRIBLE   STORY 

"  He  Cometh  unto  you  with  a  tale  which  can  hold  children 
from  play,  and  old  men  from  the  chimney  corner."  —  Sir 
Philip  Sidney. 

"For   two   years   back   then,"  he   began,  "while 

slaving  in  the  stone  quarries  of  P ,  I  have  been 

known  but  by  a  number.  I  have  had  no  name.  Yet 
it  does  not  seem  so  very  long  ago  since  I  was  one  of 
the  happiest  and  best  respected  young  fellows  in  the 

city  of   C .     And  the    name  that   the   law  has 

filched  from  me  was  Wilson  Webb.  Boys,  if  I 
escape,  I  mean  with  God's  help  to  restore  that  name. 
I  might  take  another,  but  I  am  innocent,  and  never 
shall.  I  shall  tiy  to  work  my  passage  to  a  foreign 
land,  but  I  will  still  be  Wilson  Webb. 

"  I  cannot  remember  either  my  father  or  mother. 
In  fact,  the  former  died  before  my  birth,  and,  broken- 
hearted, my  mother  did  not  live  a  year  after.  But 
it  is,  perhaps,  as  well  they  did  not  survive  to  see 
their  son  in  the  dock,  and  condemned  to  penal  servi- 
tude. 

"  My  father  had  many  good  friends ;  one  of  these 
adopted  and  reared  me.  I  believe  both  he  and  his 
wife  were  very  fond  of  me.     But  alas  I  both  died  of 

55 


56  THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY 

fever  within  a  fortnight  of  each  other,  and  I  was 
once  more  thrown  penniless,  or  nearly  so,  on  the 
world. 

"  But  my  education  had  been  good,  and  I  was 
shortly  taken  into  the  office  of  a  wealthy  city  mer- 
chant, who  had  known  my  mother. 

"There  were  two  other  clerks  besides  myself,  and 
the  white-haired  old  gentleman  was  very  kind  to  us 
all  and  trusted  us  implicitly.  Young  though  I  was, 
I  have  often  been  sent  to  the  bank  to  cash  cheques 
many  hundreds  of  pounds  in  value.  So,  too,  was 
Robson. 

"Robson  and  I,  you  must  know,  lived  in  the  same 
apartments,  just  one  cosy  bedroom  and  a  sitting-room; 
but  our  old  landlady  was  exceedingly  good  to  us,  so 
that  I  was  as  happy  as  a  summer's  day  is  long. 

"  Peters,  the  other  clerk,  and  I  were  very  great 
friends.  Indeed,  I  think  we  loved  each  other  more 
than  many  brothers  do.  But  he  was  a  year  or  two 
younger,  and  lived  with  his  parents.  He  had  a  very 
beautiful  sister,  and  I  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
house  of  an  evening,  always  taking  my  violin  with 
me. 

"You,  boys,  are  too  young  to  know  anything  about 
love,  but  I  loved  my  friend's  sister  more,  I  used  to 
think,  than  life  itself.  It  was  with  my  fiddle  I  wooed 
her,  lads,  and  often  and  often  as  I  played  have  I  seen 
the  tears  streaming  down  her  sweet  face.  Heigh-ho ! 
I  wonder  where  Madeleine  is  now ! 

"  But  now  let  me  tell  you  a  little  more  about  Rob- 


THE   CONVICT'S  TERRIBLE   STORY  57 

son.  For  a  year  or  so  while  living  together,  he  seemed 
all  that  any  one  could  wish.  Bnt  after  this  he  took  to 
staying  out  later  at  night  tlian  I  liked,  and  I  knew 
that  much  of  his  time  was  spent  at  a  hotel  bar,  a  good 
deal  frequented  by  so-called  sporting  characters. 

"  I  must  add,  however,  that  I  never  saw  Robson  the 
worse  for  accursed  drink.  But  his  talk  was  all  too 
frequently  of  the  turf.  He  would  often  tell  me  that 
he  had  '  spotted  a  winner,'  or  that  he  had  received  '  a 
straight  tip,'  and  there  were  rare  occasions  when  he 
seemed  as  full  of  joy  and  gladness  as  if  some  one  had 
just  left  him  a  fortune. 

"  Right  well  do  I  remember  his  coming  home  one 
evening  more  joyful  than  usual. 

"  '  Wilson,'  he  said,  '  I  wonder  you  don't  have  a  bet 
on  now  and  then.  There  now,  we  are  pals,  and  so  I 
don't  mind  putting  you  up  to  a  good  thing  at  any 
time.' 

'"I  don't  seem  to  care  for  such  things,'  I  said;  'for 
old  hands  have  told  me  that  what  you  win  one  day, 
you  lose  another,  and  more  besides.' 

"'Nonsense,  Wilson,  nonsense.  Now  just  look 
here.  I'm  going  to  make  your  eyes  twinkle  with  envy 
and  surprise.' 

"  Tlien  he  hauled  forth  handfnl  after  handful  of 
gold,  and  threw  it  carelessly  down  on  the  table. 

" '  Count  it,  Webb,  count  it,  and  if  you  want  a  bit, 
you  can  have  it.' 

"  I  counted  the  money,  which  amounted  to  no  less 
than  sixty  pounds. 


58  THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY 

"  I  confess  that  I  did  feel  a  little  envious.  '  What 
good,'  I  could  not  help  thinking,  '  was  there  in  slaving 
away  at  the  drudgery  of  an  office  desk  if  money  could 
be  so  easily  made  by  spotting  a  winner,  as  Robson 
called  it?' 

"  I  had  more  than  half  a  mind  to  try  to  spot  a  win- 
ner myself. 

"  Robson  stood  there  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
his  head  a  little  to  one  side,  and  a  smile  on  his  sinister 
face — he  was  very  far  indeed  from  being  prepossessing 
—  gazing  down  at  the  bright  yellow  pile. 

"  '  Look  here,  Webb,'  he  said,  '  I'm  going  to  ask  for 
a  fortnight's  leave,  and  I  know  the  old  man  will  grant 
it.  I  shall  run  up  to  town,  and  before  I  come  back 
that  sixty  pounds  will  be  six  hundred  pounds  at  least. 
Then  I'll  cut  the  office  and  turn  a  book-maker.  Now 
can  I  put  a  "  sou  "  on  for  you  ?  ' 

"  Then  I  foolishly  enough  gave  him  the  last  piece 
of  gold  I  had  in  the  world. 

"  My  horse  lost,  and  I  tempted  the  turf  no  more. 

"  Yet  I  did  expect  Robson  to  come  back  with 
plenty  of  money. 

"Alas!  he  not  only  returned  penniless,  but  minus 
even  his  watch. 

"  '  Down  on  my  luck.  Horrid ! '  he  said,  throwing 
himself  into  the  easy-chair,  with  his  legs  extended  in 
front  of  him,  and  his  hat  resting  on  the  bridge  of  his 
nose. 

" '  Never  mind,  Webb,  better  times  will  come. 
You'll  see.' 


THE   CONVICT'S   TERKIBLE   STORY  59 

"  But  things  seemed  to  go  from  bad  to  worse  with 
my  companion,  and  I  noticed  more  than  once  that, 
when  he  returned  late,  he  was  evidently  not  sober. 
Yet  he  was  ahvays  fresh  enough  in  the  morning, 
and  our  kind  old  employer  knew  nothing  about  his 
doings. 

"Christmas  time  came  round,  and  I  myself  was  out 
nearly  every  evening,  my  violin  being  in  great  repute. 
But  I  knew  that  Robson  stayed  more  in  the  house 
now,  and  I  hoped  for  his  reformation. 

"  But  early  in  the  new  year  came  the  awful  de- 
nouement. 

"  I  had  been  out  on  a  business  message  at  the  other 
end  of  the  city,  and,  when  returning,  met  Robson 
near  to  the  bank. 

" '  Ah !  Webb,'  he  cried ;  '  glad  I  met  you.  I've  to 
meet  a  fellow  in  this  hotel,  but  won't  be  long.  Just 
toddle  into  the  bank,  will  you,  and  cash  this  cheque 
for  the  firm  ?  All  gold  if  you  can  carry  it,  except 
twenty  in  five-pound  notes.' 

"  I  willingly  obeyed. 

"  The  cheque  was  for  <£  420. 

"  Robson  was  in  the  street,  about  fifty  yards  from 
the  bank,  and  I  handed  him  the  bag,  and  then  hurried 
home  to  dinner. 

"  But  I  cannot  describe  to  you  the  horror  and  the 
terror  I  felt  on  being  awakened  one  morning  about  a 
fortnight  after,  and  finding  two  burly  policemen  and 
a  man  in  plain  clothes  standing  by  the  foot  of  the 
bed. 


60  THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY 

"  '  You're  our  prisoner,'  said  the  latter.  '  Dress 
yourself  quietly,  and  come  along.' 

" '  But  what  does  it  mean  ? '  I  cried,  as  soon  as  I 
could  speak.     '  Of  what  am  I  accused  ?  ' 

" '  Know  no  more  than  you  do,'  said  the  detective. 
'  Mebbe  not  so  much,  young  fellow.  Anyhow,  I've 
got  to  act  upon  my  warrant;  so  look  smart.' 

"When  arraigned  later  on  upon  a  cliarge  of  forgery, 
my  anguish  and  perturbation  of  mind  must  have  been 
mistaken  for  guilt.  Anyhow,  I  was  remanded,  bail 
being  refused,  and  after  a  time,  oh,  such  a  wear}-, 
weary  time !  I  was  brought  up  for  trial. 

"  The  cheque  that  Robson  had  given  me  to  cash 
had  been  a  forged  one.  I  told  all  the  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth. 

"  I  was  not  believed. 

"  '  Had  I  forged  that  cheque,'  I  cried  in  agon}-, 
'  surely,  I  would  not  have  taken  it  myself  to  the  bank.' 

" '  Silence,  young  man,'  said  the  judge,  sternl}-. 

"  Even  Robson  appeared  as  a  witness  against  me, 
swearing  he  had  found  morsels  of  paper  by  the  fire- 
place of  a  morning,  with  our  emplo3^er's  signature 
thereon.  Also  that  I  was  often  up  late  in  the  sitting- 
room,  writing  he  knew  not  what. 

But  the  most  terrible  evidence  against  me  —  evi- 
dence that  was  deemed  conclusive — was  the  fact  that 
in  my  desk  was  found  not  only  a  sheet  of  paper  writ- 
ten all  over  with  imitations  of  the  firm's  signature, 
but  two  of  the  bank-notes  the  cashier  had  paid  me 
when  he  gave  me  the  gold. 


THE   CONVICT'S  TERRIBLE   STORY  6 1 

"  I  kuew  little  more  till  I  found  myself  in  the  cell. 
All  was  like  some  awful  nightmare. 

"  Five  years'  penal  servitude;  that  was  my  sentence. 

Robson  never  came  near  me,  but  poor,  kind-hearted 
Peters  did,  and  I  told  him  all  my  story.  There  was 
just  one  ray  of  pleasure  shining  through  my  dark- 
ness, when  I  found  that  Peters  believed  and  pitied 
me  from  his  inmost  soul. 

"  I  need  not  tell  3'ou  all  the  misery  I  endured 
from  my  first  months  of  solitary  confinement  until 
I  found  myself  a  nameless,  numbered  wretch  work- 
ing in  a  gang  at  P . 

"  I  resolved  to  escape  some  time.  That  is,  I 
should  make  the  attempt,  and  if  I  was  shot  dead 
in  my  endeavour,  I  should  be  out  of  all  my  misery. 

"  But  two  years  passed  away  and  I  never  had  a 
chance  —  till  one  day. 

"My  conduct  had  always  been  represented  as 
exemplary,  and  I  believe  I  was  about  the  last  man 
any  one  could  have  suspected  of  hai-bouring  designs 
of  escape. 

"  My  attempt  was  a  most  daring  one. 

"We  were  working  at  the  foot  of  an  apparently 
inaccessible  cliff,  but  from  my  boyhood  I  had  been 
an  athlete  and  a  splendid  climber. 

"  Well,  on  this  particular  day,  when  I  broke  and 
made  a  dash  for  the  cliff,  the  fog  was  so  dense  that 
men  were  invisible  five  yards  away. 

"The  entrance  to  the  quarry  was  extra  well 
guarded,  but  not  the  cliff-top. 


62  THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY 

"  For  a  considerable  time  I  was  not  missed,  and 
my  companions  in  servitude  would  have  been  the 
last  to  inform. 

"But,  oh!  that  terrible,  terrible  cliff!  I  had 
kicked  off  my  shoes  and  clung  to  it  as  I  slowly 
ascended  with  bleeding  fingers  and  feet.  It  was 
steep  and  high,  and  many  times  I  missed  footing, 
holding  on  only  by  the  hands,  expecting  every 
second  to  fall  and  be  dashed  to  pieces.  I  was  just 
beginning  to  despair,  and  had  resolved  to  drop  and 
end  it  all,  when  a  bush  of  broom,  waving  in  the 
breeze,  flicked  across  my  face. 

"I  grasped  it  —  and  was  free. 

"  Free  so  far,  that  is. 

"  Every  moment  was  precious,  yet  would  I  not  fly 
until  I  had  knelt  down  there  on  the  green  cliff-top 
and  thanked  God,  while  the  tears  streamed  over  my 
cheeks,  that  so  far  he  had  aided  my  deliverance. 

"  I  heard  bells  ringing  now  and  guns  fired,  and 
knew  that  soon  all  the  countrj^-side  would  be 
apprised  of  the  convict's  escape. 

"  But  the  fog  was  my  best  friend ;  and  for  a 
whole  week  I  journe3^ed  on  and  on,  sleeping  in  the 
woods  all  day,  travelling  only  at  night,  and  living 
entirely  on  raw  turnips  or  even  mangolds. 

"  Well,  boys,  here  I  am ;  and  I  have  hopes  I  may 
yet  escape  entirely.  But  these  awful  clothes  and 
my  stubbly  beard  may  prove  my  ruin." 

Ernest  sat  in  silence  for  some  time.  He  was 
thinking. 


THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY  63 

"  We  do,  indeed,  pity  you,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Remain  here  to-niglit,  and  to-morrow  morning 
you  shall  be  rid  of  both  beaid  and  clothes." 

Ernest  Elliot  was  as  good  as  his  word  ;  and  when, 
next  forenoon,  Laurie  and  Leebie  came  to  the  cave, 
they  were  much  surprised  to  find,  sitting  by  the  fire 
reading,  a  comparatively  well  dressed  young  man, 
clean-shaven  and  respectable-looking. 

But  the  situation  had  not  been  without  a  touch 
of  humour,  which  only  showed  how  clever  Ernest 
was. 

It  is  a  fact  tlren  that  deserters  have  been  known 
to  exchange  clothes  v/ith  a  scarecrow  in  a  potato 
field,  and  so  begging  their  way  home  in  rags.  Well, 
Ernest  not  only  brought  the  convict  a  decent  suit  of 
clothing  long  before  it  was  light,  but  he  took  away 
the  convict's  clothes,  carried  them  to  a  field  not  far 
away,  and  exchanged  them  for  the  dress  of  the 
scarecrow  therein. 

He  brought  back  the  old  ragged  habiliments  and 
burned  them  in  the  cave,  assuring  Wilson  Webb 
that  the  scarecrow  made  a  very  pretty  convict 
indeed. 

But  there  was  a  method  in  Ernest's  madness  or 
folly;  for  the  warders  had  followed  the  convict 
directly  north,  getting  a  clew  here  and  there  to 
direct  them,  and  the  potato  field  lay  to  the  north 
of  the  haunted  house. 

It  all  turned  out,  therefore,  just  as  Ernest  wished 
it  to. 


64  THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY 

For  the  pursuers,  while  Webb  lay  perdu  in  the 
cave,  appeared  on  the  moor,  where  the  boys  and 
Leebie  were  playing  with  Bobbie,  Ned,  and  the 
dogs. 

They  were  questioned,  of  course,  and  right  frankly 
did  Laurie  tell  the  story  of  their  having  seen  the 
convict  in  the  old  house ;  and  off  went  the  minions 
of  the  law. 

Not  finding  their  man,  they  pursued  their  course 
still  to  the  north,  and  they  had  not  proceeded  more 
than  a  mile  before  they  came  in  sight  of  the  convict 
scarecrow. 

They  laughed  with  very  joy  now. 

"  We'll  have  him,"  cried  one,  rubbing  his  hands. 
"  We've  only  to  find  out  how  the  scarecrow  was 
dressed,  and  send  its  description  to  every  police  office 
within  a  hundred  miles." 

And  this  they  did. 

But  all  in  vain ;  so  after  a  whole  week  of  further 

searching,  they  returned  to  P ,  disheartened  and 

disappointed  men. 

Wilson  Webb  stayed  safely  for  ten  days  in  the 
cave,  going  out  for  exercise  only  at  night.  During 
this  time,  by  his  kindly,  pleasant  voice,  by  the  stories 
he  told,  and  the  sweet  music  he  elicited  from  Ernest's 
violin,  Wilson  Webb  quite  endeared  himself  to  the 
children,  and  Leebie  was  in  tears  Avhen  at  last  he 
bade  her  and  Laurie  good-bye  with  the  intention  of 
starting  very  early  next  morning. 

Now  Ernest  Elliot  was  a  young  fellow  that  did 


THE   CONVICT'S   TERRIBLE   STORY  65 

nothing  by  halves ;  Webb  had  over  a  hundred  miles 
yet  to  walk  to  the  city  of  C . 

This  would  take  him  over  a  week.  So  the  ques- 
tion arose  how  should  he  subsist  all  that  time.  If 
Ernest  had  possessed  money,  Webb  would  have  had 
it.     But  he  did  not. 

"  Happy  thought !  "  he  cried  all  at  once.  "  You 
shall  borrow  my  violin." 

"  Can  you  really  trust  me  with  it  ?  " 

"  That  I  can  and  will,"  said  the  brave  boy. 

"Well,  I  shall  take  it,  and  I  sliall,  send  or  bring 
it  back  ;  and  never  while  I  live  shall  I  forget  to 
pray  Heaven  to  bless  you  for  all  your  goodness  to 
me." 

Before  daylight  next  morning  the  ex-convict 
Webb  was  ten  good  miles  from  the  cave  on  the 
moor,  and  that  very  forenoon,  in  a  little  rustic  vil- 
lage, a  crowd  stood  around  him  to  listen  to  the 
magic  sounds  he  elicited  from  Ernest's  violin,  and 
he  soon  had  enough  money  to  keep  him  for  one  day 
at  least. 

And  so,  from  village  to  village,  da}''  by  day,  he  jour- 
neyed on.  Not  directly  north  now,  however ;  for  he 
had  determined  not  to  approach  his  own  city,  where 
so  many  might  know  him,  until  his  hair  had  once 
more  grown  long. 

The  story  of  his  wanderings  as  an  itinerant 
fiddler  would  fill  a  volume ;  for  he  was  often  taken 
off  the  street  into  private  houses,  where  parties 
were  being  given.      This  paid  well,  and  his  perform- 


^  THE  CONVICT'S  TERRIBLE  STORY 

ance  on  his  pet  instrument  was  everywhere  greatly 
admired. 

Towards  Christmas  he  was  within  fifteen  miles  of 

C ,  and  now  he  had  to  be  doubly  cautious,  and 

therefore  he  only  appeared  on  the  streets  of  villages 
after  dark. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  CONFESSION 

"Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health  or  goblin  damned, 
Be  thy  intents  wicked  or  charitable, 
Thou  comest  in  such  a  questionable  shape, 
That  I  will  speak  to  thee."  —  Shakespeare. 

"  My  guilt  is  all  before  thee  spread, 
Thou  awful  spirit  of  the  dead."  —  Anon. 

Wilson  Webb's  friend  Peters  was  passing  quietly 

along  a  rather  dark  street  in  C one  night  when  a 

hand  was  placed  on  his  shoulder,  and,  looking  quickly 
round,  behold !  there  stood  beside  him  a  tallish  man, 
in  a  slouch  hat  and  with  a  heavy,  dark  beard. 

He  carried  under  his  arm,  in  a  green  baize  bag,  a 
fiddle. 

"  Peters,  dear  boy,  you  will  not  know  me,  but  I  am 
Webb,  the  ex-convict  —  " 

There  was  right  hearty  handshaking  now,  after 
which  Peters  said:  — 

"  Come  with  me  to  my  private  room,  where  we  can 
talk  unmolested.  We  can  gain  admittance  by  a  side 
door." 

•'  One  single  question  first,  Peters.  Is  Madeleine 
alive  and  well?" 

"She  is,  my  dear  fellow,  and  she  has  not  forgot- 
67 


68  THE  CONFESSION 

ten  you.  We  have  all  along  believed  in  your  inno- 
cence, and  what  is  more,  in  the  guilt  of  the  unhappy 
creature  Robson," 

As  soon  as  they  entered  the  private  room,  Wilson 
Webb  laid  aside  his  false  beard. 

"Why,"  cried  Peters,  shaking  him  once  more  by 
the  hand,  "you  are  not  a  bit  altered." 

"And  yet,"  said  Webb,  "the  sufferings  I  have 
endured  would  have  turned  many  a  man  into  a  rav- 
ing maniac." 

"  Well,  I  trust  they  are  over  now.  But  you  appear 
to  me  like  one  come  back  from  the  dead." 

"  I  have  come  from  worse  than  death." 

"But  are  you  aware,  Wilson,  that  in  yesterday's 
paper  it  is  reported  that  you  were  captured  in  a 
wood  two  days  ago,  after  a  fierce  resistance,  and  so 
severely  wounded  that  you  died  in  two  hours'  time?" 

"  I  have  not  read  it,  but  the  authorities  have  evi- 
dently done  this  to  cloak  their  incapacity  to  secure 
the  escaped  convict." 

"Well,  Webb,  I  see  my  way  to  make  something 
out  of  this,  if  you  will  be  guided  by  me." 

"I  shall  do  whatever  you  advise  me.  And  now, 
tell  me,  is  Robson  still  in  your  firm?  " 

"  No,  no,  no ;  he  has  left  over  a  3'ear.  His  gam- 
bling propensities  led  him  to  drink.  He  is  now  liv- 
ing in  mean  lodgings,  no  one  knows  how,  only  that 
he  sells  tips,  and  is  seldom  ever  sober." 

"  Does  he  believe  me  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that  is  wdiat  I  am  coming  to.     I  visited 


THE   CONFESSION  69 

him  j-esterday  with  some  jellies  mother  gave  me,  and 
found  him  ill  in  bed,  and  almost  delirious. 

''Wilson  Webb,"  he  continued,  "I  have  a  plan. 
But  first  I  must  consult  the  doctor ;  for  the  fright  I 
should  like  to  give  Robson  might  kill  the  wretch 
outright,  and  this  is  no  part  of  my  intention." 

Dr.  Scrivener,  though  a  youngish  man,  was  an 
ardent  student  of  psychology,  and  when  Peters  told 
him  in  confidence  all  his  friend  Webb's  sad  story 
from  the  beginning  till  now,  and  what  he  intended 
to  do,  he  entered  into  his  plans  with  heart  and  soul. 

For  the  bold  young  doctor  saw  an  article  in  the 
British  3Iedical  Journal  looming  in  the  near  future, 
with  perhaps  honour  and  glory  and  a  practice  in  Lon- 
don to  follow. 

In  a  day  or  two,  then,  after  Wilson  Webb's  first 
visit  to  Peters'  rooms,  Scrivener  and  he  made  their 
way  to  the  drunkard's  den. 

There  lay  Robson  with  a  face  that  was  ghastly 
white,  with  dark,  dilated  eyes  that  had  in  them  the 
look  of  a  hunted  wild  beast,  with  his  thin  hands 
clutching  at  the  coverlet,  and  perspiring  at  every 
pore. 

He  knew  the  doctor  and  Peters,  however,  and  tried 
to  sit  up  in  bed  to  give  them  a  welcome,  but  fell  back 
on  the  pillows  helpless. 

"What  a  terrible  night  I  have  had!"  he  cried. 
"No  sleep,  no  sleep,  or  if  I  closed  my  eyes  for  a 
moment  it  was  but  to  awaken  next  moment  shriek- 
ing from  a  fearful  dream.     And  the  room  and  the 


■JO  THE  CONFESSION 

very  bed  were  crowded  with  creeping,  crawling,  slimy 
things,  that  gazed  at  me  piteously,  pityingly.  Tell 
me,  doctor,  tell  me,  shall  I  get  over  this,  or  must  I 
die?" 

"  I  shall  be  better  able  to  tell  you  to-night,"  said 
Dr.  Scrivener,  with  his  finger  on  the  man's  pulse. 
"We  have  brought  you  some  magazines  and  news- 
papers. You  had  better  try  to  read.  It  will  help  to 
steady  your  nerves  by  keeping  your  mind  always  in 
the  same  groove." 

"  Here,"  said  Peters,  "  is  the  account  of  the  death 
of  your  old  friend,  the  forger.     I  will  read  it." 

"  No  !  no !  no !  "  shrieked  Robson. 

But  Peters  read  it,  nevertheless. 

It  was  a  fearfully  graphic  sketch. 

"Oh!  Oh!  Oh!"  groaned  Robson,  "and  I  killed 
him  —  I  killed  him  !  I  mean,"  he  said,  "  that  I  should 
not  have  appeared.     That  is  all.     That  is  all." 

"  Well,"  said  Scrivener,  "  I  will  call  to-night." 

When  they  did  call,  they  left  Wilson  Webb  just 
outside  the  door,  and  after  they  had  talked  a  little 
with  the  sick  man,  whom  they  found  calmer,  Webb 
came  slowly  stalking  in,  leaned  his  elbow  on  the 
mantelpiece,  and  turned  his  dark  sad  eyes  towards 
Robson. 

"Look!  look!"  shrieked  the  latter.  "'Tis  he. 
'Tis  he.  Take  him  away  !  Oh,  take  him  off !  There 
is  blood  upon  his  brow." 

"  Come,  come,  my  good  fellow.  I  must  give  you 
opium  and  send  you  to  sleep  if  you  carry  on  like 


THE  CONFESSION  7 1 

this.     There  is  no  one   here   save  Mr.  Peters   and 
myself." 

But  Robson  had  raised  himself  on  the  bed  now. 

"  Speak,  Webb !  Speak ! "  he  cried.  "  What  brings 
your  spirit  here?" 

"I  come  to  haunt  you.  Nevermore  shall  I  leave 
you,  night  nor  day.  You  have  encompassed  my 
ruin,  and  you  know  it.  Only  a  confession  from 
you,  that  shall  clear  me  before  my  friends  and  rela- 
tives, is  the  price  of  my  absence." 

"  Do  you  hear  him  ?     Do  you  hear  him?" 

Robson  was  appealing  to  the  doctor. 

"  We  hear  nothing,  we  see  nothing.  Come,  come, 
you  must  lie  down  and  try  to  compose  yourself. 
We  are  going  now,  but  will  soon  return,  and  I  shall 
give  you  an  opiate  then." 

"  Take  him  with  you ! "  the  wretched  man  shrieked. 
"Take  him,  oh,  take  him!" 

They  went  quietly  out,  but  stopped  just  outside, 
where  tliey  could  hear  all. 

"  I  confess.  I  confess,  Wilson ;  this  is  my  dying 
confession,  and,  oh,  may  Heaven  forgive  me!  Yes,  it 
was  I  who  forged  the  cheque.  I  am  your  mur- 
derer." 

Poor  Webb  bowed  his  head.  He  had  placed  both 
hands  over  his  face,  and  the  tears  were  gushing 
through  his  fingers. 

He  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  I  will  go  soon,"  he  said,  "  and  I  promise  not  to 
harm  you." 


72  THE   CONFESSION 

Robson  now  seemed  to  fall  into  a  kind  of  trance, 
from  which  he  did  not  awake  until  a  magistrate  came 
with  Dr.  Scrivener  and  Peters  and  proceeded  at  once 
to  take  his  deposition.  The  confession  was  written 
down  by  a  clerk.  It  was  made  in  simple  yet  graphic 
language,  yet  the  depth  of  the  man's  guilt  horrified 
all  who  heard  it. 

But  the  man  was  calmer  after  all  was  over.  The 
doctor  pricked  his  arm  now,  inserting  under  the  skin 
a  few  drops  of  fluid,  and  in  a  minute's  time  the 
wretch  was  sound  asleep. 

When  Scrivener  came  next  morning,  the  nurse  told 
him  the  patient  had  passed  a  good  night.  He  was 
sensible,  but  very  weak. 

He  adhered  to  his  confession,  however,  and  in  a 
few  days'  time  he  was  able  to  be  removed  to  prison. 

Before  the  judge,  and  in  a  crowded  court,  poor 
Wilson  himself  being  there,  he  repeated  all  he  had 
already  confessed  and  even  gave  additional  details, 
and  when  asked  if  he  considered  that  there  were  any 
extenuating  circumstances  in  his  case,  he  replied  in 
a  firm  voice  :  — 

"No,  no;  none.  Gambling  has  been  my  ruin; 
that  is  all.  I  ask  my  old  friend's  pardon  and  his 
prayers.  But  I  desire  nothing  better  than  to  be  de- 
clared guilty,  and  to  work  out  whatever  punishment 
or  sentence  the  law  shall  inflict.  While  doing  so,  I 
shall  be  calmer  in  mind  than  I  have  been  for  many 
a  long  sad  year." 


THE   CONFESSION  73 

And  so  the  gambler,  the  forger  and  drnnkard, 
passes  out  of  our  story,  and  1  know  not  that  he  will 
appear  agahi  at  all ;  for  soon  our  scenes  and  advent- 
ures must  change,  and  we  want  no  black  spot  to 
blur  the  picture  of  young  and  happy  lives. 

Well,  the  old  firm  reinstated  Wilson  Webb,  but 
gave  him  higher  wages  than  previously,  and  in  a  few 
months  he  was  his  own  happy  self  once  more.  But 
he  added  to  his  salary  by  playing  as  a  violinist  at 
many  a  concert.  He  did  not  forget  to  return  young 
Ernest  Elliot's  violin,  for  he  had  hired  a  good  one, 
and  was  soon  rich  enough  to  purchase  it. 

But  when  Madeleine  confessed  one  night  that  she 
more  than  cared  for  him,  Wilson's  cup  of  bliss  was  full. 

This  is  not  a  love_  story,  or  I  should  tell  the  reader 
more.  I  may  just  say,  however,  that  Wilson  deter- 
mined to  make  riches  or,  at  all  events,  enough  of  the 
world's  "gear"  to  enable  him  to  marry. 

This  he  could  never  do  at  home,  and  so  his  thoughts 
soon  turned  to  lands  beyond  the  sea. 

There  was  nothing  on  eai'tli  he  would  not  do  or 
endure  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  provide  a  home 
for  Madeleine ;  and  a  year  or  two,  he  told  her,  would 
soon  pass  by. 

Of  course,  womanlike,  she  could  but  weep,  and  her 
tears  were  her  only  reply  to  his  proposal. 

Yes,  Wilson  Webb  would  emigrate.  He  was  still 
in  the  summer  of  his  youth.  "Time  had  not  cropped 
the  roses  from  his  cheeks,  though  sorrow  long  had 
washed  them.'' 


74  THE   CONFESSION 

He  somehow  felt  sure  that  he  would  succeed.  A 
chance,  he  told  himself,  was  all  he  needed.  Ah, 
well !  perhaps.  Anyhow,  it  is  true  what  Bulwer 
Lytton,  novelist,  has  told  us ;  namely,  that 

"  In  the  lexicon  of  youth,  which  fate  reserves 
For  a  bright  manhood,  there  is  no  such  word 
As  Fail." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

TO   THE   LAND   OP   THE   WEST 

" To  the  West !  to  the  West!  to  the  land  of  the  free! 
Where  mighty  Missouri  rolls  down  to  the  sea ; 
Where  the  young  may  exalt  and  the  aged  may  rest, 
Away,  far  away,  to  the  land  of  the  ^Vest !  " 

When  Wilson  Webb  landed  at  New  York,  after 
a  somewhat  long  but  really  restful  voyage,  it  was 
with  no  very  fixed  notion  as  to  what  he  should  do. 
But  this  plucky  young  fellow  was  very  far  indeed 
from  being  one  of  those  easy-going,  slow-minded 
people  who  can  live  quietly  and  contentedly  for 
any  length  of  time  in  the  expectation  of  something 
turning  up.  Such  men  as  these  are  not  the  salt  of 
the  earth ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  a  positive  clog 
to  the  earth  and,  figuratively  speaking,  do  their  best 
to  prevent  it  from  going  round. 

No,  Wilson  Webb  determined  to  make  something 
turn  up.  He  had  not  a  very  great  deal  of  money,  it 
is  true,  but  he  had  the  next  best  thing  to  wealth ; 
namely,  a  light  and  hopeful  heart.  And  he  had, 
moreover,  excellent  credentials. 

Being  strong  and  healthy,  and  hardly  yet  twenty- 
five  years  of  age,  time  was  not  of  ver}-  great  moment 
to  him.     That  was  one  reason  why  he  had  come  out 

75 


76         TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST 

to  the  West  in  a  somewhat  slow  ship,  rather  than 
with  an  ocean  greyhound.  The  other  was,  that  it 
was  cheaper.  The  vessel  was  laden  with  emigrants 
forward,  most  of  whom  came  on  board  at  Queenstown, 
from  Cork  and  the  country  round  about.  Poor, 
half-starved-looking  Irish  folks  ;  the  men  carrying 
bundles,  thinly  clad,  with  holes  in  their  clothes  where 
never  a  hole  should  be ;  some  with  brimless  hats, 
black  pipes,  and  shillalahs ;  the  women  carrying 
nothing,  but  with  white  pinched  faces,  and  little  bits 
of  shawls  around  their  heads. 

Wilson  had  felt  sad  and  sorry  for  them.  Luckil}^ 
for  himself,  he  had  secured  a  berth  on  deck  —  abaft  the 
quarter-deck  in  a  petty  officer's  cabin  ;  for,  ex-conviot 
though  he  was,  and  inured  to  the  doubtful  amenities 
of  prison  lifcv  he  had  never  before  seen  such  abject 
misery  and  wretchedness  as  that  which  for  the  first 
few  days  after  putting  to  sea,  existed  down  below  in 
the  steerage. 

Wilson  had  made  a  friend  of  the  young  surgeon, 
and  he  took  him  to  see  things.  The  men's  sleeping- 
berths  were  off  the  steerage,  and  each  was  simpl}^  two 
large  shelves  with  a  narrow  passage  between.  On 
these  shelves,  which  were  but  a  little  raised  above  the 
deck,  with  a  rag  or  blanket  each,  the  men  lay  side  by 
side,  packed  like  herrings.  Out  in  the  main  steerage 
itself,  the  deck  was  covered  with  men  and  women  in 
every  stage  of  mal  de  mer^  and  so  terrible  was  the 
aroma  that  Wilson  was  glad,  indeed,  when  he  found 
himself  on  deck  aofain. 


TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST         JJ 

The  vessel,  however,  was  well  foniid  as  to  victuals, 
but  sick  or  not  sick,  every  poor  soul  was  bundled  on 
deck  every  morning,  and  the  hose  turned  into  the 
steerage  for  a  general  wash  and  scrub  down. 

But  things  soon  mended,  and  then  even  the  steer- 
age folks  Avere  not  so  badly  off.  At  all  events,  they 
had,  like  Wilson  himself,  hope  in  their  hearts.  Were 
they  not  leaving  poverty  and  misrule  behind  them  in 
dear  "  ould  Oirland "  ?  Were  not  they  and  their 
little  ones  bound  for  the  new  land, 

"  Where  children  are  blessings,  and  he  who  hath  most 
Hath  aid  to  his  fortune  and  riches  to  boast  "  ? 

The  steerage  passengers,  as  soon  as  they  got  over 
the  horrors  of  mal  de  mer,  were  excellent  customers 
to  the  beef-tub.  Moreover,  they  kept  on  deck  pretty 
well  all  day  long,  which  showed  their  excellent  sense. 

On  fine  evenings,  Wilson  Webb  would  tune  his 
fiddle  and,  going  forward,  seat  himself  somewhere 
about  the  fo'c's'le,  and  the  poor  Irish  people  crowded 
round  him. 

When  he  played  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  "  or 
"  The  Wearing  of  the  Green,"  his  listeners  made  no 
attempt  to  hide  their  tears  ;  indeed,  it  was  no  uncom- 
mon thing  to  see  some  grey-haired  woriian  throw  her- 
self into  her  daughter's  arms  and  sob  aloud.  And 
even  the  men  themselves  were  but  little  less  affected. 
For  they  were  leaving  behind  them  all  they  held  dear 

in  life. 

"  Farewell,  for  T  must  leave  thee, 
]\Iy  own,  my  native  shore, 


yS  TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST 

And  doom'd  in  foreign  lands  t'  dwell, 

May  never  see  thee  more. 
For  laws,  our  tyrant  laws,  have  said 

That  seas  must  roll  between 
Old  Erin  and  her  faithful  sons, 

Who  love  to  wear  th«  green." 

Ah !  but  Wilson  Webb  knew  how  to  change  all 
this,  to  rekindle  hope  in  every  breast  and  cause  those 
poor,  patriotic  people  to  smile  through  their  tears ; 
so  he  would  dash  into  a  merry,  blood-stirring  jig. 

What  a  scene  that  was,  now !  What  a  tribute  to 
the  power  of  music  ! 

"Hooch!  Hooch!  Hurrah!  Hurrah!"  Hats 
were  waved,  shillalahs  twirled,  while  old  and  young, 
even  the  children,  joined  that  mad  and  mazy  dance, 
till  all  were  ready  to  drop  Avith  fatigue.  Then  the 
music  ceased,  and  all  was  quiet  once  more. 

But  one  beautiful  evening  so  excited  were  they, 
that  they  must  seize  the  fiddler  and  march  three 
times  round  the  deck  with  him,  carrying  him  shoulder- 
high. 

Well,  Wilson  Webb  told  himself  he  was  going  to 
feel  quite  at  home  in  America ;  he  had  a  bold  front, 
was  willing  to  work  and  defy  any  difficulties  he  was 
likely  to  encounter. 

New  York  is  really  a  go-ahead  place.  The  business 
population  there  do  not  go  to  sleep  on  their  legs,  as 
they  seem  to  on  Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand.  New 
Yorkers  do  everything  quickly;  they  walk  smartl}^ 
they  eat  quickl}^  drink  quickly,  and  think  quickly. 
And  Wilson  Webb  Avould  speedily  have  caught  this 


TO   THE   LAXD   OF   THE   WEST  79 

electric  fever  of  life,  even  if  lie  had  not  had  it 
before. 

He  managed  to  get  into  good  but  cheap  lodgings 
on  the  very  day  he  landed,  and  that  same  afternoon 
he  sallied  forth  to  make  a  circuit  of  some  of  the  iirst- 
class  business  houses. 

Wilson  was  ambitious. 

Ambition,  within  due  bounds,  is  a  glorious  thing, 
and  I  like  to  see  it  in  the  young.  True,  they  may 
never  altogether  secure  their  object,  but  the  attempt 
to  do  so  will  carry  them  higher,  anyhow,  than  they 
would  otherwise  have  been  had  they  contented  them- 
selves with  crawling  instead  of  flying. 

If  you  aim  an  arrow  at  the  moon,  3'ou  won't  hit  it. 
True,  but  your  arrow  will  go  higher  far  than  if  it  had 
been  aimed  at  a  bush  of  broom. 

Well,  every  city  merchant  talked  kindl}--  enough 
to  Wilson,  but  they  were  sorry  that  at  present,  etc., 
—  just  the  well-worn  old  formula. 

So  he  had  no  luck  for  several  days. 

He  didn't  lose  heart,  however. 

He  did  as  Captain  Webb  did,  —  when  swimming 
across  the  channel,  he  just  kept  pegging  away. 

Now  some  may  tell  you,  reader,  that  the  Americans 
want  to  keep  all  America  to  themselves,  and  that  they 
have  no  wish  to  encourage  the  Britisher,  or  to  give 
him  work.  This  is  nonsense.  If  a  Xew  York  mer- 
chant believes  it  would  be  to  his  advantage  to  engage 
the  services  of  a  deserving  young  fellow,  he  will  cer- 
tainly not  stop  to  inquire  into  his  nationality. 


8o         TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST 

And  SO  in  a  splendid  office  which  he  entered  one 
forenoon,  Wilson  found  a  white-haired  old  gentleman 
who  frankly  told  him  he  liked  his  looks  and  would 
gladly  give  him  a  trial. 

"  If  you  prove  worthy,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  advance 
you  a  step  in  a  week  or  two." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  sir !  But  now  before  actually 
engaging  me,  I  should  like  you  to  know  a  little  more 
of  my  story.     I  am  an  ex-convict  sir." 

"  Jow  an  ex-convict !      You!" 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  incredulously,  and 
then  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Could  I  see  you  in  private,  sir,  for  just  a  few 
minutes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  come  into  my  little  den  here." 

Before  they  left  that  little  den,  Wilson  Webb  had 
told  all  his  sad  story.  The  merchant  was  deeply 
interested. 

He  shook  the  young  man  by  the  hand. 

"  How  you  must  have  suffered !  "  he  said ;  "  but  I 
must  tell  you  straight,  that  your  conduct  has  quite  won 
my  heart,  and  you  must  look  upon  me  as  a  friend." 

Wilson  Webb  left  the  beautiful  office  walkinsf 
upon  air.     That  was  how  he  felt,  at  all  events. 

He  entered  upon  his  duties  the  very  next  day. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  he  had  another  interview 
with  Mr.  Slatten. 

"  I'm  going  to  put  you  to  another  desk,"  he  said ; 
"  it  will  be  a  more  responsible  post,  but  it  will  also  be 
far  more  remunerative." 


TO   THE   LAND   OF   THE   WEST  8 1 

So,  to  his  great  joy,  Wilson  was  promoted. 

He  did  his  duty  too. 

But  his  lodgings,  though  poor,  were  comfortable, 
and  the  old  landlady  kind ;  so  he  stuck  to  them,  his 
object  being  to  save  as  much  money  as  he  possibly 
could,  then  send  for  ^Madeleine. 

***** 

One  day  in  early  spring  Laurie  and  Leebie  had 
gone  early  to  the  cave  on  the  moor,  because  as  soon 
as  Ernest  arrived  they  meant  to  spend  quite  a  long 
time  at  the  water's  side. 

Neddy  had,  for  some  reason  or  another  which  he 
would  not  reveal,  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  the  squire's 
young  son,  and  as  soon  as  his  own  young  folks  were 
settled  at  the  cave,  he  used  to  amble  off  to  the  distant 
wood  to  meet  Ernest.  He  was  always  accompanied 
by  little  Sir  Duncan  Currie,  and  very  important  and 
serious  the  wee  dog  looked ;  but  whether  he  went  to 
look  after  Neddy  or  only  for  companionship,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  say. 

Well,  on  this  particular  morning  Ernest  came  rid- 
ing towards  the  cave  at  the  gallop,  the  wee  terrier 
barking  for  joy.  It  was  evident  there  was  news  of 
some  sort  to  tell. 

"  A  great,  big,  long  letter  from  Wilson  Webb,"  said 
Ernest,  dismounting.  "And  there  is  one  for  you 
inside  it,  Leebie,  and  one  for  you  too,  Laurie." 

So  these  youngsters  did  not  go  to  the  river  that 
day  as  soon  as  they  had  purposed,  because  those  let- 
ters were  all  to  be  read,  not  once,  but  several  times. 


82         TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST 

They  were  so  instructive,  and  so  jolly  and  joyful. 
Then  Leebie  had  to  read  Laurie's,  and  Ernest's  also, 
and  the  boys  read  hers ;  in  fact,  everybody  read 
everybody  else's,  and  there  was  much  talk  about 
them  afterwards. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  go  to  America ! "  said 
Ernest. 

"  And  I,"  said  Laurie. 

"  And  I  too,"  said  Leebie. 

Ernest  Elliot  was  silent  for  a  short  time. 

Ernest  was  thinking.  He  was  not  given  to  much 
of  that  sort  of  thing,  it  is  true.  But  at  present  he 
was  gazing  at  the  crackling  logs  on  the  hearth,  with 
dreamy  eyes,  and  evidently  in  a  fit  of  abstraction. 

"  Suppose,"  he  said  abruptly,  at  last,  "  we  don't 
go  fishing  this  forenoon,  only  just  to,  catch  a  few  for 
dinner.  Suppose  we  leave  fishing,  on  a  large  scale, 
till  afternoon.  " 

"  And  what  shall  we  do  with  ourselves  till  dinner 
time  ?  "  said  Laurie. 

"  Oh,  you  are  to  come  with  me.  I  want  to  show 
you  my  estate." 

"  Your  estate  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ernest,  laughing.  "  I  have  told  you 
before  that  I  was  the  youngest  son.  Well,  my 
brothers  all  pop  in  before  me  and  would  have  every- 
thing, the  great  hall  and  all,  if  poor  father  were  to 
die.  But  he  won't  for  many,  many  years  to  come. 
Well,  I  know  he  loves  me  quite  as  much  as  George 
or  Dempsey  or  Harold ;  so  I  was  not  surprised  when 


TO   THE   LAND   OF   THE   WEST  83 

lie  took  me  with  liim  yesterday  011  a  far  ride  to  the 
outside  boundaries  of  the  estate. 

" '  Do  you  see  that  farm,'  he  said,  pointing 
to  okl  Wigmore's  house,  'and  the  half-tilled  land 
around  it?' 

" '  Yes,'  I  replied  wonderingly. 

" '  Well,'  said  father,  '  it  is  only  about  a  hundred 
acres,  but  it  is  all  yours.     For  that  is^iot  entailed.' 

"I  almost  cried  with  joy,  and  rode  nearer  to  him 
that  I  might  press  his  hand. 

" '  But,'  he  added,  '  you  must  go  to  sea  first,  or  go 
somewhere  or  other  to  fight  and  battle  with  the  world, 
and  make  some  money ;  for  I  have  none  to  give  you. 
Then  you  can  return  and  settle  down  here,  and  shoot 
and  fish  and  hunt  and  do  just  as  you  please.'  And 
now,  Laurie,  let  us  be  off  and  have  a  look  at  my 
estate." 

Well,  Leebie  and  Ernest  rode  on  Bobbie  and  Ned, 
but  Laurie  much  preferred  to  run  with  the  dogs. 

They  arrived  at  last,  after  crossing  several  streams, 
in  a  beautiful  rolling  bit  of  country,  and  got  high  up 
on  a  hill-top. 

"The  farm  standing  yonder,"  said  Ernest,  "is 
indeed  a  tumble-down  old  place,  but  when  I  make 
money,  I'll  build  a  beautiful  house  on  the  rising 
banks  of  the  little  lake  yonder ;  and  there  I  shall 
keep  a  boat.  I  will  till  the  arable  land.  I  shall 
have  a  nice  park,  but  the  woods  and  the  trees  and 
hills  shall  all  be  untouched  and  sacred.  Won't  that 
be  lovely,  Leebie  ?  "  he  added. 


84         TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  in  raptures,  "  I  think  I  see  it 
all ! " 

Mere  boy  though  he  was,  — barely  sixteen,  —  Ernest 
was  romantic,  and  he  tliought  he  saw  something  else 
in  his  future  that  was  greatly  to  add  to  his  joy.  But 
he  kept  this  to  himself. 

"  Heiglio  !  "  he  sighed,  "  I  have  got  to  make  money 
first." 

"And  so  must  I,"  said  Laurie.  "I  wonder  how 
we  are  to  do  it. " 

"  In  the  West,  Laurie — in  the  West,  old  man.  For 
father  distinctly  told  me  that  this  country  was  only 
for  the  wealthy,  but  for  the  workingman,  unless  he 
is  a  rogue,  it  is  really  played  out." 

Then  they  all  sat  down  on  the  hill  and  read  Wil- 
son Webb's  letters  over  again  once  more ;  after  that 
they  wandered  away  to  the  bank  of  the  stream  to 
fish  for  their  dinner. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WILSON    WEBB   IX   COWBOY    LAND 

"  Your  spiritless  stay-at-home  shakes  his  head  as  he  tells  you 
That  ambition  lures  and  leads  one  straight  to  the  grave. 
Bah !   Wealth  is  a  prize  that  is  well  worth  the  winning, 
And  we  all  know  that  Fortune  still  favours  the  brave." 

—  Anon. 

"Whether  Slatten  be  a  Scots  name  or  not,  I  really 
do  not  know  ;  but  of  one  thing  I  am  certain  enough, 
—  Slatten  himself  was  a  Scotsman.  A  self-made  man 
too,  and  therefore  just  the  individual  who  was  likely 
to  appreciate  talent,  or  cleverness  and  the  determina- 
tion to  do  well,  in  others. 

He  lived  in  a  very  beautiful  house  near  to  Central 
Park,  and  was  reported  to  be  wealthy.  He  was 
upright,  however,  and  had  always  refused  to  be  one 
of  *'  a  corner,"  as  it  is  called. 

If  he  was  Scotch,  so  were  his  wife  and  his  seven 
daughters  !  Yes,  he  had  seven,  and  never  a  son. 
Being  Scotch,  they  were,  of  course,  all  musical,  and 
when,  somehow  or  other,  it  leaked  out  —  everything 
does  leak  out  in  America  —  that  Wilson  Webb  was  a 
violinist,  Slatten  invited  him  frequently  to  the  house 
and  Mrs.  Slatten  made  quite  a  pet  of  him. 

The  youngest  daughter  was  nineteen,  and  really  a 
85 


86  WILSON    WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND 

pretty   girl.     The    eldest   must   have   been   six   and 
thirty,  though  she  "made  up"  well. 

Not  one  of  them  was  married,  but  from  the  many 
dinner  and  garden  parties  given,  it  was  evident 
enough  that  their  parents  would  have  been  glad  to 
place  them. 

Wilson  Webb  soon  got  to  like  Miss  Julia  Slatten. 
There  really  was  something  winning  about  her,  and 
something  that  at  times  reminded  him  of  Madeleine. 
Was  he  likely  to  forget  his  English  love  ?  No,  no  ; 
this  I  dare  not  believe.  But  I  do  believe  that  had  he 
made  up  to  Julia,  his  suit  would  have  been  favourably 
received,  and  he  might  have  calculated  on  becoming 
a  partner  in  the  lirm  of  Slatten,  Limited. 

Yes,  everything  leaks  out  in  New  York,  and  Wil- 
son needn't  have  been  surprised  when,  one  evening 
a  smart-looking  young  man  with  a  note-book  called 
at  his  humble  lodgings  and  announced  himself  as  one 
of  the  chief  reporters  of  the  Weekly  Hopper.  "  Just 
dropped  in,"  he  said  affably,  "  to  extract  a  few  notes 
from  you  for  our  far-famed  weekly." 

"  You  certainly  do  me  high  honour,"  returned  Wil- 
son ;   "but  on  what  subject,  pray?" 

"  Oh,  you  are  an  ex-convict,  I  hear.  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  something  about  life  in  British  prisons. 
They  will  be  of  intense  interest  to  our  readers,  and 
help  to  raise  our  circulation  considerably." 

"  And,  of  course,  you  will  pay  handsomely  for  these 
notes,  that  are  bound  to  raise  your  circulation  ?  " 

"  Ah !     Waal,  now,  we  don't  usually  do  that  sort 


WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND  8y 

of  thing,  but,  in  your  case,  if  four  or  five  dollars  are 
of  any  use,  we  —  " 

He  never  finished  the  sentence,  because  Wilson 
was  holding  the  door  open  for  him. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  wish  you  a  very  good-night," 
he  said. 

The  reporter  pleaded. 

Wilson  was  obdurate. 

But  next  evening,  the  young  fellow  had  a  visit 
from  a  man  of  a  very  different  stamp ;  a  quiet, 
white-haired  gentleman,  with  pleasant  manners  and 
soldierly  aspect. 

After  introducing  himself,  he  said  quietly :  — 

"  You  had  a  visit  last  evening  from  young  Puffer, 
of  the  Hopper,  who  tried  to  draw  you.  Just  like 
the  Hopper  s  confounded  cheek,  and  Fm  just  real 
glad  you  gave  him  the  cold  shoulder. 

"  But,"  he  added,  "  the  subject  of  convict  life  in 
England  would  be  an  excellent  draw.  If  you  con- 
sent to  give  a  course  of  interesting  and  exciting  lect- 
ures here,  I  will  run  you.  I  will  pay  all  expenses, 
and  give  you  good  remuneration,  certain,  and  a  big 
share  in  the  gate-money." 

Wilson's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight.  He  never 
had  lectured,  it  is  true.  But  his  appearance  was 
fetching  and  his  voice  was  good.  So  a  bargain  was 
soon  struck ;  and  that  very  night  he  began  to  write 
his  lectures. 

So  full  was  he  of  his  subject,  and  so  thickly  did 
old  memories  of  the  sufferings  he  had  endured  crowd 


88  WILSON   WEBB  IN  COWBOY  LAND 

in  upon  him  as  he  wrote,  that  he  was  surprised  at 
the  speed  his  pen  attained. 

Mr.  Leader  took  the  lectures  away  when  finished, 
and  had  them  type-written. 

Then  he  got  Wilson  to  read  them  privately  to 
him,  or  one  of  them,  and  gave  him  many  useful 
hints  on  delivery  and  deportment ;  and  Wilson  was 
a  willing  and  a  very  apt  pupil. 

CONVICT   LIFE   IN  ENGLAND. 

BY 

AN  EX-CONVICT. 

It  made  a  very  fetching  placard  indeed,  and,  as 
Americans  dearly  love  everything  that  is  new  and 
interesting,  the  tickets  were  all  sold  in  a  day  or  two. 

The  lecture  series  was  a  great  success,  and  all  the 
newspapers  gave  a  good  review  of  them,  praising 
the  ex-convict  who  had  endured  so  much,  though 
innocent,  and  hitting  England,  or  rather  Britain,  I 
should  say,  as  hard  as  they  knew  how  to,  for  her 
cruelty  and  her  unjust  laws.  Only  the  Hopper 
came  out  with  a  scathing  article,  and  had  the 
audacity  to  say,  they  doubted  not,  if  justice  were 
meted  out  to  him,  Wilson  Webb  would  be  serving 

out  the  rest  of  his  time  at  P instead  of  trying 

to  star  it  in  the  great  metropolis  of  the  United 
States. 

Mr.  Leader  himself  read  this  article  to  Webb  as 
they  dined  together  at  the  Westminster  Hotel. 

The  young  man  laughed. 


WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND  89 

"We  don't  take  any  notice  of  such  journalistic 
sputterings  in  England,"  he  said. 

"Ah!  but,  my  boy,  you  must  here.  And  if  you 
do  as  I  tell  you,  I  see  my  way  to  make  capital  out 
of  it." 

"  Shall  I  have  to  shoot  the  editor,  then  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  you  must  lash  yourself  to  your  little 
guns,  in  case  the  editor  tries  to  have  a  shot  at  you." 

"  Shall  I  have  to  mop  up  the  floor  M'ith  him,  then, 
and  stand  him  on  his  head  in  the  corner?" 

"No;  that  is  Texas  style,  and  might  do  even 
here,  but  I'd  prefer  you  to  do  something  thoroughly 
English,  and  therefore  original,  and  so  I  propose  a 
dog  whip." 

****** 

The  editor  of  the  Hopper  was  alone  in  his  office 
when  Wilson  Webb  entered. 

The  interview  was  short  but  painful,  particularly 
so  for  the  editor. 

"Did  you  write  that  scurrilous  article,  sir?" 

The  editor  confessed,  but  tried  to  open  his  desk 
in  order  to  reach  his  guns. 

Wilson  struck  down  the  lid  with  his  strong  fist, 
actually  shattering  it,  for  he  was  an  athlete.  Then 
he  sprang  nimbly  at  his  man,  threw  him  down,  stool 
and  all,  and  proceeded  to  administer  chastisement 
such  as  he  had  never  administered  to  a  man  before, 
far  less  a  dog. 

Leader  was  just  outside,  and  had  taken  good  care 
to  inform  the  people  wliat  was  going  on  ;  and  when 


90  WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND 

they  heard  the  editor's  screams,  they  hooted  and 
jeered,  and  cheered  as  well,  especially  when  Wilson 
himself  stepped  quietly  out,  and  stopped  a  few 
seconds  to  light  a  cigarette. 

There  was  no  policeman  anywhere  near.  Mr. 
Leader  was  a  good  general. 

But  every  newspaper  had  a  bit  about  the  affair 
next  day.  The  conduct  of  this  brave  Englishman 
was  highly  extolled,  and  the  rest  of  the  series  of 
lectures  was  more  successful  than  even  the  first. 

But  Mr.  Leader  was  not  going  to  give  him  up 
just  yet,  and  determined  to  run  him  in  the  cities  of 
the  South. 

"  I'm  really  very  sorry  to  part  with  you,"'  said 
kind-hearted  Mr.  Slatten,  "-but  it  will  be  for  your 
good ;  and  I  shall  live  in  hopes  that  when  you  have 
finished  lecturing,  you  will  come  back  to  us." 

Poor  Julia  was  in  tears  when  Wilson  left  her. 
Would  she  never,  never  see  him  more  ?  Well,  who 
could  answer  that? 

I  think  it  was  in  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and 
Washington  that  Wilson's  lectures  were  most  ap- 
preciated, and  by  the  course  he  managed  to  save 
nearly  a  thousand  pounds. 

"  I  think,"  said  Leader,  one  morning  at  breakfast, 
"  we  had  better  finish  off  at  San  Francisco." 

"  Well,"  said  Wilson,  "  I  shall  be  pleased  to,  but 
first  and  foremost,  I  should  like  to  see  a  little  cowboy 
life  in,  say.  New  Mexico.  And  I  will  tell  you  why : 
American  shows  and  lectures  on  wild  western  life, 


WILSON   WEEP,   IN   COWBOY   LAND  91 

illustrated  with  the  lantern,  are  popular  in  England. 
AVell,  having  mastered  my  sul)ject,  I  purpose  going 
back  to  my  own  tight  little  island,  having  made  a  bit 
of  money,  and  marryiug  the  dearest,  sweetest  girl  on 
earth." 

"  Bravo,  lad !  You're  a  true-born  Briton,  and 
your  intention  speaks  well  for  the  goodness  of  your 
lieart,  though  it  ain't  what  we  Americans  would  call 
business." 

"  Pray  explain." 

"  Well,  poor  little  Julia  Slatten  is  deeply  in  love 
with  you,  and  by  marr3ang  her  you  would  soon  be  a 
partner  in  the  big  firm.  The  subject  is  worth  con- 
sideration." 

"  My  dear  Leader,"  said  Wilson,  almost  solemnly, 
"  were  I  to  debate  the  subject  with  myself,  even  for 
a  minute,  I  should  be  untrue  to  ni}'-  God,  untrue 
to  myself,  and  untrue  to  the  girl  I  left  behind  me. 
Pray  say  no  more." 

Leader  looked  at  him  w^onderingly,  but  said 
nothing. 

***** 

It  was  shortly  after  this,  that  Leader  and  Wilson 
Webb  parted.  They  had  been  very  great  friends, 
because  each  respected  even  the  idiosyncrasies  as 
well  as  the  opinions  of  the  other.  And  I  do  think 
that  a  man's  or  a  boy's  opinions  are  his  private  prop- 
erty, and  no  one  else  has  any  business  to  trespass 
thereon,  any  more  than  he  has  to  enter  his  garden 
and  trample  down  his  flowers. 


92  WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY  LAND 

Leader  went  north.  Wilson  Webb  went  west  in 
search  of  adventures,  and  we  must  follow  him. 

He  took  with  him  a  beautiful  and  instantaneous 
photographic  apparatus;  not  large,  but  most  true 
and  efficient.  He  wanted  to  get  pictures  for  the  lan- 
tern, and  determined  that  they  should  be  true  to  the 
life. 

Besides  the  camera,  Wilson  took  with  him  a  good 
light  rifle  and  a  pair  of  excellent  six-shooters,  but 
no  fowling-piece.  "  Your  cowboy,"  Leader  told  him, 
"  despised  what  he  called  a  '  scatterer,'  and  most  of 
them  are  excellent  shots." 

All  the  money  he  did  not  actually  require,  Wilson 
put  in  a  safe  bank.  He  dressed  himself  simply  as  an 
Englishman,  in  shooting-jacket  and  cap,  with  strong 
boots ;  but  the  summer  was  alread}^  drawing  to  a 
close,  so  he  did  not  forget  to  furnish  himself  with 
clothing  that  would  stand  all  the  storms  and  rigours 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  defy  even  a  blizzard 
itself. 

Wilson  Webb  was  nothing  unless  romantic.  As  a 
mere  lad  he  had  often  read  about  the  cowboys  and 
the  cowboy  country,  and  one  of  his  chief  delights 

while  residing  in  the  city  of  C ,  long  before  evil 

daj's  had  fallen  upon  him,  was  to  borrow  or  hire  a 
good  horse  —  he  called  the  nag  a  broncho  —  and  go 
for  a  long  ride  across  the  bare  open  country  or 
wolds.  He  thus  became  a  most  expert  and  daring 
rider.  Moreover,  he  was  a  good  shot  either  with  rifle 
or   revolver,    and  when   only  sixteen   had   come   in 


WILSON  WEBB  IN  COWBOY  LAND 


93 


second  at  a  volunteer  review.  Young  Wilson,  on 
more  occasions  than  one,  had  attempted  to  lasso 
farmers'  shorthorns.  But  his  practice  was  certainly 
nothing  to  be  proud  of.  Once,  and  once  only,  he 
succeeded  in  hitching  on  to  a  strong  and  agile  cow. 

That  cow  did  not  let  him  forget  it.  She  tore 
away  at  a  terrific  rate,  and  finally  not  only  pulled 
him  out  of  his  seat,  saddle  and  all,  but  draorored  him 
some  considerable  distance  across  country.  The 
broncho  followed.  He  evidently  thought  it  was  all 
a  part  of  the  performance.  But  when  Wilson  re- 
turned to   C ,  he  was  very  sore  indeed,   and  a 

shilling  hardly  covered  his  expenses  for  sticking- 
plaster  alone. 

Well,  at  four  and  twenty  he  was  just  as  fond  of 
adventure  as  he  had  been  at  fourteen,  and  he  cal- 
culated he  would  meet  with  one  or  two  in  the  little 
town  he  finally  brought  up  at. 

I  may  say  at  once,  however,  that  he  did  not  find 
the  cowboys  the  irreclaimable,  wild,  and  reckless 
men  he  had  read  about. 

A  few  were  madcaps,  it  is  true,  but  many  were  far 
more  noble  and  honest  and  straightforward,  than 
his  own  countrymen  who  belonged  to  the  working 
classes. 

AVilson  had  travelled  most  of  the  journey  in  the 
really  old-fashioned  way ;  namely,  by  waggon.  He 
passed  by  many  a  ranch  and  stayed  for  the  night  at 
many  a  small  town.  But  all  were  too  civilised  for 
his  notions. 


94  WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND 

So  westward,  and  westward  ever,  he  went,  until 
at  long  last  he  cast  anchor  at  a  queer  little  town 
with  a  queer  little  name ;  to  wit,  "  TFti're-all-here."  ^ 
Why  it  should  have  been  called  so,  I  have  not  the 
remotest  notion.  It  was  a  town  of  log  or  turf  shan- 
ties and  houses ;  badly  lighted,  if,  indeed,  it  could 
be  said  to  be  lighted  at  all. 

The  principal  buildings  in  it  were  the  gaol,  the 
sheriff's  house,  the  office  of  the  Independe7it,  the 
doctor's  hut,  and  the  drinking  saloon. 

Wilson  arrived  about  midday,  while  the  sun  shone 
down  on  this  Rocky  Mountain  slope  with  a  heat  that 
seemed  enough  to  melt  lead. 

He  was  riding  a  really  good  horse,  and  the  waggon 
was  coming  slowly  up  behind.  He  wore  a  red  Gari- 
baldi shirt  and  knickerbockers,  his  head  covered  with 
a  broad-brimmed  felt  sombrero,  lined  with  green 
leaves. 

Probably  he  ought  to  have  called  on  the  sheriff 
first,  but  he  didn't  know  there  was  an}-"  such  func- 
tionary here.  So  he  asked  for  the  name  and  office 
of  the  newspaper,  and  from  the  group  of  wiry- 
looking,  picturesque  men,  one  stepped  forth  and 
stood  by  his  saddle. 

"  We  air  the  editor,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand, 
"  and  if  yer  means  to  stay  among  us  for  a  time,  we'll 
do  our  best  to  put  ye  up  to  the  ropes.     See  ?  " 

"  I  do,  and  many  thanks.  I'll  dismount,  and  lead 
my  horse  out  of  the  sun." 

1  The  natives  always  put  the  emphasis  on  the  "ire." 


WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND  95 

"As  nice  a  broncho  as  ever  we  saw.  What  say 
ye,  boys  ?  " 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent,  and  a  brown- 
faced  youth  stepped  up  and  offered  to  see  to  the 
nag. 

Wilson  willingly  gave  him  up. 

"  Boys,"  continued  the  editor  of  the  Independent^ 
"here  we  have  before  us  a  raal  stranger.  From  his 
talk  he  is  a  British,  and  mebbe  a  bit  of  a  tender- 
foot. Most  Britishers  are.  Never  mind;  we  have 
a  duty  before  us,  and  that  is  to  show  this  green 
Englishman  all  the  hospitality  we  can,  and  all  the 
fun.  Now,  stranger,  shake  hands,  and  come  to  the 
saloon.  I  guess  yer  neckll  steam  when  ye  pour 
somethinsr  down  it." 

Well,  not  only  did  the  editor  accompany  Wilson 
to  the  saloon,  but  at  least  a  dozen  cowboys.  He 
was  not  one  who  cared  to  drink,  but  he  could 
not  turn  his  back  upon  such  well-meaning  hospi- 
tality. So  he  swallowed  the  whisky  placed  be- 
fore him,  although  it  went  down  like  fixed 
bayonets. 

After  this  he  requested  the  pleasure  of  standing 
the  cowboys'  drinks,  round. 

They  consulted  just  for  a  few  moments ;  then  one 
tall,  handsome  fellow  laid  a  great,  hard  hand  on 
Wilson's  shoulder. 

"  No,  sirree,"  he  said ;  "  for  three  days,  at  least, 
you'll  never  attempt  to  show  silver  in  '  TFc're-all- 
here.'     If  ye  do,  you'll  offend  us.     There  !  " 


g6  WILSON   WEBB   IN   COWBOY   LAND 

"I  don't  want  to  do  that,  I  can  assure  you." 
After  this  the  talk  became   general,  and  Wilson 
was  learning  something  new  every  minute. 

That  same  afternoon  he  got  settled  in  a  very 
decent  "'dobe"  house,  and  thought  himself  exceed- 
ingly lucky. 


CHAPTER   X 

A  GREEJSr   ENGLISHMAN 

"Let  us  never  judge  too  harshly, 

Mind,  —  this  life  is  but  a  dream, 
•  And  all  experience  tells  us 

Folks  are  seldom  what  they  seem. 
There's  many  a  sweet,  sweet  kernel 

Within  a  rough  nut's  shell ; 
And  the  roughest  face  a  kindly  heart  may  hide, 
For  aught  that  we  can  tell."  —  Anon. 

When  the  editor  of  the  Weekly  Western  Indepen- 
dent entered  Wilson's  shanty  that  evening,  the  young 
adventurer  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  and  shook 
hands  right  heartily.  Then  he  rolled  his  fiddle  in 
a  soft,  silk  handkerchief,  and  placed  it  in  its  case. 
He  loved  that  Strad.  of  his,  far  more  than  he  could 
have  loved  a  baby,  and  took  greater  care  of  it,  too. 

"Take  the  easy-chair,  Mr.  Whetstone,  and  try 
those  cigars,"  said  Wilson. 

Well,  if  one  had  not  been  told  that  it  was  an  easy- 
chair,  one  might  have  been  inclined  to  doubt  it. 

The  chair  was  merely  a  small  flour-barrel  turned 
upside  down,  so  that  one  sat  on  the  bottom  of  it. 
But  it  had  a  semilunar  back  fitted  to  it,  and  it  was 
upon  this  that  its  claim  to  its  title  rested. 
H  97 


98  A   GREEN  ENGLISHMAN 

Whetstone  sat  down  and  stretched  his  legs  easily 
out  in  front  of  liim ;  then  he  lit  a  cigar. 

He  was  very  simpl}',  if  not  picturesquely,  dressed. 
In  fact,  he  wore  nothing  very  much  to  speak  of ;  a 
flannel  shirt  with  its  sleeves  rolled  up  over  the 
elbows,  a  pair  of  flannel  pants  rolled  up  to  the 
knees.  Both  garments  might  have  been  white  origi- 
nally. A  pair  of  canvas  shoes  graced  his  feet,  and  a 
soft  broadbrim  his  head.  But  in  a  belt  around  his 
waist,  were  stuck  his  guns  and  a  bowie.  He  had 
once  had  a  pistol  pocket,  but  that  Avas  worn  out. 

The  expression  on  the  man's  face,  however,  was 
far  from  unkindly,  tliough  his  jaws  were  lantern  and 
his  brows  heavy. 

Wilson  handed  him  a  fan  for  refrigeratory  purposes, 
and  to  keep  the  "skeeters"  as  much  at  bay  as 
possible. 

But  this  enterprising  editor  carried  a  note-book. 

"  I  mean,  sir,"  he  said,  "  to  come  out  with  a  flamer 
on  Saturday.  A  col.  and  a  half,  sir,  and  it  is  all  to 
be  devoted  to  Wilson  Webb,  the  stranger  who  has 
come  to  spy  out  the  nakedness  of  our  land." 

"  Fiddlesticks ! "  said  Webb,  "  I  don't  see  much 
nakedness  about  it.  I've  come  here  to  study  your 
cowboys,  and  cowboy  life  in  general,  and  to  find 
some  fun  and  some  adventures. 

"  And,"  he  added,  "  when  I  get  back  to  Merry 
England,  as  it  is  sarcastically  called,  I  mean  to  give 
lectures  on  cowboys,  and  this  same  city  of  '  Were- 
all-here  '  shall  be  the  centre." 


A   GREEN   ENGLISHaiAN  99 

"  And  in  course  ye'll  lecture  and  fiddle  a  piece  to 
us  poor  benighted  sons  of  the  Sierras  ?  " 

"  If  it  can  amuse  3-ou,  I  will  with  pleasure." 

"Shake,"  said  Whetstone,  holding  out  his  broad 
brown  hand.  "  I  say,  young  fellow,  your  heart  ain't 
far  out  o'  plumb. 

"•  And  now,"  he  added,  "  I  guess  we'll  have  to  put 
in  an  appearance  at  the  saloon.  Just  to  show  we 
know  how  to  be  friendly.  The  Doc.  will  be  there. 
The  Doc.  is  a  good  fellow,  and  I  guess  no  one  ever 
saw  him  any  the  worse  for  whisky.  We'll  mebbe 
meet  ten  or  a  dozen  of  the  boys,  besides  more  that'll 
be  playin'  poker  on  the  barrel-heads.  Do  you  play 
draw-poker  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Wilson;  "I  play  the  fiddle." 

"  That's  about  right.  Well,  if  Nate  Buster  comes 
any  of  his  games  with  you,  we  ourself  will  back  you 
up." 

"Who  is  Nate  Buster,  may  I  ask?" 

"Nate's  right  name  is  Bloomsbury  —  a  daurned 
sight  too  good  for  him,  so  we  call  him  Buster. 
Nate's  been  on  the  roar  for  over  a  week,  but  he 
hasn't  killed  anybody  yet.  More's  the  wonder.  But 
mind  ye  this,  sir.  Buster  is  a  rare  good  fellow  when 
he  has  got  anything  more'n  fifteen  inches  o'  old  rye 
in  his  stomach.  Only,  as  I  said,  he's  on  the  roar  and 
may  want  to  tickle  a  stranger.  So  I  advise  you  to 
have  your  shootiu'-irons  handy,  in  case  ye  need  to 
kill  him.  And  mind,  don't  be  shy  or  skeery  about 
it.     Nobody'd  miss  Nate   very  much,  and  the   Doc. 


100  A   GREEN   ENGLISHMAN 

and  we  ourself  would  see  ye  all  straight  wi'  the 
sheriff. 

"  And  now  we'll  saunter." 

After  lighting  fresh  cigars,  they  did  saunter. 

The  saloon  was  brilliantly  lighted.  The  landlord, 
a  short,  stout  man  with  an  immense  beard,  was  busy 
enough  dispensing  "  the  pizen,"  assisted  by  his  wife 
and  pretty  little  daughter,  while  the  boys,  none  of 
whom  were  more  heavily  dressed  than  the  editor  him- 
self, were  lolling  around  in  every  attitude  of  ease,  if 
not  grace. 

"  Nominate,"  said  Whetstone. 

"  Whisky,"  said  Wilson,  though  far  rather  would 
he  have  had  a  glass  of  cold  water. 

A  red-faced,  but  pleasant-looking,  man  entered  just 
at  that  moment.  He  was  dressed  in  spotless  white 
flannels,  with  rings,  and  a  huge  gold  chain. 

"  Ah  !  Doc,"  cried  the  editor,  "  very  pleased !  Here 
is  a  young  fellow  all  the  way  from  the  Breetish  islands. 
Whatll  you  drink?" 

"  Just  water  to-night." 

"  Water ! " 

"  Ay.     Going  to  a  nasty  case." 

He  leaned  over  the  bar  and  patted  Lizzie  on  the 
cheek.     She  was  evidently  a  favourite  of  the  doctor's. 

"You'll  come  to  see  me,  won't  you?"  he  said  to 
Wilson. 

"  That  I  will,  wdth  great  pleasure." 

"  Well,  good-night,  all.  See  you  later  on,  perhaps." 
And  off  he  went. 


A  GREEN  ENGLISHMAN  lOI 

The  boys,  glasses  in  hand,  now  crowded  round 
Wilson,  and  his  friend,  the  editor.  They  did  not  get 
much  news  in  this  far-off  town,  a^id  wanted  to  hear 
Wilson  yarn  a  bit. 

A  whole  hour  passed  away  pleasantly  enough. 
The  boys  certainly  had  dubbed  Wilson  a  ''poor 
drinker,"  but  he  did  not  mind  that  a  bit.  He  had 
made  a  resolution  not  to  drink  and  not  to  play  poker, 
and  he  told  all  hands  that  as  plainly  as  he  could 
speak  it. 

But  suddenly  a  kind  of  awed  hush  fell  over  the 
party  and  a  voice  could  be  heard  singing  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  coming  ever  nearer.  It  was  a  maudlin  old 
song. 

"  Whisky  is  the  life  of  me, 

Whisky !  whisky! 
Whisky  killed  my  brother  Bill, 
Whisky  killed  old  daddy  too, 
But  whisky  is  the  life  o'  me. 
Whisky  for  my  Johnnie ; 

Hurrah !     Whoop ! 

That  "whoop"  was  a  yell,  and  with  it  Nate  Buster 
brought  up  in  the  doorway  of  the  saloon. 

"  Boys,  Nate's  on  the  roar !  Whoop !  Boys, 
Nate's  goin'  to  shoot !  Stand  by  for  hats  and  heads  ! 
Hurrah ! " 

He  had  a  six-shooter  in  each  hand,  and  though 
really  not  a  bad-looking  fellow,  he  appeared  very 
reckless. 

"Who  says  Nate's  hand  ain't  steady?  See  that 
bottle  o'  old  rye  on  the  shelf  ?  " 


102  A   GREEN  ENGLISHMAN 

Bang !     He  fired,  and  the  bottle  was  decapitated. 

"  Put  lier  on  tlie  plank,  landlord.     Nate  can  pay." 

Then  his  eye  fell  upon  Wilson  Webb,  who  was 
leaning  on  the  counter,  glass  in  hand,  and  looking 
very  cool  and  unconcerned. 

Nate  now  changed  his  tone  in  a  moment. 

''  What ! "  he  cried,  in  the  wheedling  voice  of  some 
old  woman.  "  Who  have  we  here  ?  Some  tender- 
foot? A  green  Englishman?  Eh?  Some  mother's 
darling,  fresh  out  from  England,  home,  and  beauty  ? 
And  how's  his  little  toes,  then  ?  " 

"  If  you  want  to  know,  you  shall,"  said  Wilson, 
calmly;  "for,  if  you  don't  keep  quiet,  I'll  kick  you 
out." 

Knowing  that  a  terrible  row  was  brewing,  every 
one  drew  off,  and  Wilson  and  Nate  stood  facing  each 
other. 

"  This  to  Nate !  And  from  a  Breetisher  too. 
Look,  you  stranger,  I  was  thinkin'  o'  killin'  ye,  but 
I'll  give  you  a  chance.  You  shall  dance  to  amuse 
the  boys,  and,  if  you  refuse,  I'll  blow  the  whole  top 
o'  your  head  off.     Dance  !  " 

It  is  an  ugly  situation,  when  one  has  to  look  down 
the  barrel  of  a  six-shooter  in  the  hands  of  a  maniac 
like  Nate. 

"  Dance  !     I'll  count  six,  and  fire  at  seven. 

"One,  two,  three.     Dance,  four  —  " 

He  never  got  any  farther.  Swift  as  lightning, 
Wilson  threw  his  whiskj^  straight  in  Nate's  face, 
and    the   bullet  fired  found  a  billet   in    the  ceiling. 


A   GREEN  ENGLISHMAN  I03 

Next  moment  the  revolvers  were  wrenched  from  the 
drunkard's  grasp,  and  a  well-aimed  blow  between 
the  eyes  laid  him  sprawling  on  the  floor. 

"  Bravo,  Britisher  !  Bravo,  Britain  I "'  shouted  the 
boys.  But  Nate  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  charged  like 
a  bull. 

"  I  won't  hit  you  any  more,"  cried  Wilson,  "  but 
out  you  go.     I'll  give  you  Cumberland." 

Nate  was  but  like  a  schoolboy  in  that  young  man's 
powerful  clutch. 

He  threw  him  on  the  floor  first,  and  held  him  down 
for  full}^  a  minute. 

"  That's  Donald  Dinnie  style,"  he  said.  "  Now  for 
the  grand  fling."  He  lifted  him  up  as  he  spoke.  The 
editor  himself  opened  the  door,  and  Nate  was  tossed 
far  out  into  the  darkness. 

There  lie  lay  groaning  for  fully  five  minutes,  and 
then  gathering  himself  up,  crawled  quietly  liome  to 
his  shantj'.  He  had  received  enough  at  the  hands  of 
the  green  Englishman  to  last  him  a  long  time. 

"  And  now,  bo3's,"  cried  Wilson,  as  all  gathered, 
laughing,  round  the  bar  once  more,  "  though,  thanks 
be  to  Heaven,  I  never  made  a  bet  in  m^-  life,  I'm 
willing  now  to  wager  one  of  my  legs  that  I  can 
do  what  Nate  Buster  couldn't.  I'll  make  you  all 
dance." 

"  Done  I     Done  I     We'll  have  the  leg,  stranger  I  " 

Wilson  simply  said,  "  Excuse  me  for  a  minute." 

Then  he  slipped  out,  and  in  a  very  short  time  had 
returned  with  his  fiddle-ease. 


I04  A   GREEN   ENGLISHMAN 

He  tuned  up  and  began  to  play  —  very  slow  and 
pathetic  airs  at  first ;  yet  the  fact  that  as  he  played 
the  eyes  of  nearly  every  cowboy  there  filled  with 
tears,  proved,  I  think,  that  they  had  hearts  as  soft 
as  women's  within  their  breasts,  rougli  and  uncouth 
though  they  were. 

But  Wilson  soon  changed  his  tunes.  He  stood 
right  uj)  on  the  top  of  a  barrel,  to  be  well  out  of  the 
way  when  the  fun  began.     And  begin  it  did. 

Not  even  in  Scotland  itself  was  madder,  merrier 
dancing  ever  seen,  and  it  was  kept  up  for  hours,  too. 

But  Wilson  himself  got  tired  at  last,  and  was  just 
about  to  loosen  a  peg,  when  in  glided  the  doctor  again. 

"  Yes,  my  case  is  over.  And  well  over.  The  old 
lady  has  gone  to  a  better  world.  But  lo  !  I've  been 
losing  all  the  fun.  Here,  Lizzie,  sweetheart,  you  and 
I  must  have  a  waltz." 

He  lifted  the  laughing  lassie  right  over  the  counter 
as  he  spoke.  Wilson  played  a  dreamland  waltz,  and 
no  one  in  the  room  enjoyed  himself  more  than  did 
the  Doc.  and  his  sweet  little  partner. 

In  another  hour,  all  was  darkness  and  silence  in 
that  saloon  and  throughout  all  the  deserted  streets 
of  '^  Fe're-all-here  "  itself. 

There  were  no  lights  to  be  seen  anywhere,  and  in 
all  probability  those  honest,  bold  cowboys  had  gone 
to  bed  ;  for  they  had  to  rise  right  early  every  morning. 

But  Wilson  still  sat  at  his  open  window.  It  was 
a  very  bright  and  beautiful  night,  and  his  eyes  were 
turned  towards  the  snow-caj)ped  mountain  range  far 


A   GREEN   ENGLISHMAN  IO5 

in   the  west,  above   which   the    moon    shone    in    an 
unclouded  sky,  with  here  and  there  a  tiny  star. 

It  was  very  silent,  though  every  now  and  then  out 
yonder  on  the  plains,  twixt  his  house  and  the  hills, 
he  could  hear  short,  yapping  barks  and  even  plaintive 
cries ;  but  whether  these  proceeded  from  bird  or  from 
beast,  Wilson  could  not  tell. 
Nor  did  he  care  much. 

He  sat  up  to  think.  He  told  himself  so,  at  all 
events.  I  believe  I  am  right  in  saying  he  was  a 
restless  kind  of  a  being,  this  Wilson  Webb.  There 
are  many  such  men  in  the  world,  and  although  their 
lives  are  not  so  happy  as  they  would  be  if  they  only 
had  more  repose  about  them,  still  people  like  these 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and  I  doubt  if  the  world 
would  wag  long  without  them. 

"  Heigho  !  "  said  Wilson  to  himself ;  but  it  was  not 
by  any  means  an  unhappy  sigh.  "  I've  been  pretty 
lucky  as  yet.  No,  I  haven't  made  a  fortune,  but 
£800  in  a  bank  is  a  precious  good  nucleus,  and  I 
mean  to  make  it  multiply.  Well,  I'm  all  alone  here 
in  this  city  with  tlie  funny  name.  But  those  cow- 
boys don't  seem  to  be  half  bad  fellows.  I  hope  I 
didn't  hurt  that  poor  idiot  Nate.  I'll  go  and  see  him 
to-morrow  morning. 

"  I  wonder  what  my  friend  Peters  is  doing  at  this 
moment.  I  wonder  more  what  dear  Madeleine  is 
doing.  Let  me  see:  it  will  be  early  morning  in 
England,  and  those  strange  boys,  Ernest  and  Laurie, 
with  their  sweet  wee  sister  Leeb,  will  be  preparing 


I06  A   GREEN   ENGLISHMAN 

to  ride  off  to  the  moor.  But  for  tliem  I  should  not 
be  here  now.  God  send  that  I  may  yet  be  able  to 
reward  them.  Ah !  I  really  have  something  to  live 
for,  —  the  boys  and  Madeleine. 

"  Well,  after  all,  what  would  life  be  without  work  ? 
A  dream,  a  dream ;  an  idle,  useless,  empty  dream ! 
I'll  off  to  bed  and  perhaps  I  shall  dream  of  a  future, 
that  shall  be  ten  times  liappier  than  all  the  past,  as 

well  it  may." 

****** 

He  threw  the  end  of  his  cigar  out  of  the  window, 
but  he  did  not  close  the  casement.  There  was  noth- 
ing much  to  be  dreaded  here.  Wild  beasts,  wolves, 
and  bears  there  might  be,  far  away  out  yonder  in  the 
woods  and  dingles,  at  the  foot  of  that  terrible  moun- 
tain range,  but  they  kept  well  aloof  from  all  human 
habitations.  So  he  had  nothing  to  fear  and  nothing 
to  annoy,  save  the  mosquitoes.  By  this  time,  how- 
ever, he  was  inured  to  tlieir  venom,  so  he  fell  asleep 
with  their  songfs  rinfjing'  in  his  ears. 

Wilson  was  up  betimes,  and  the  old  dame  who 
"  saw  to  him  "  brought  him  a  good  breakfast.  True, 
the  steak  was  tough,  but  he  was  young  and  hungry, 
so  he  did  justice  to  it. 

"  Now,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I'll  go  and  see  that 
never-do-well." 

He  was  directed  to  Nate's  shanty.  It  was  as  well 
known  as  Nate  himself. 

Wilson  expected  to  find  him  ill  in  bed. 

Not  so ;  for  Nate  liimself  opened  the  door  and  in- 


A    GREEN    ENTiLISILMAN  I07 

vitecl  him  in.  Nate  was  sober  and  quiet;  clothed 
and  in  his  right  mind. 

"  You  gave  me  fits  last  niglit,  old  man,  and  I  really 
deserved  it.  Shake  hands.  Come  in.  I  haven't  been 
much  in  bed.     In  grief,  you  see." 

"  In  grief,  Nate  ?  " 

"Yaas,  stranger,  in  grief." 

He  pointed  towards  a  cosy  corner,  near  to  the 
hearth,  on  which  a  fire  of  wood  was  burning.  Here, 
on  a  bed  of  soft  hay,  with  his  head  on  a  pillow  of 
the  same,  lay  a  beautiful  Scottish  collie. 

His  brown  eyes  looked  positively  human,  and  as 
Nate  knelt  beside  him,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  the 
faithful  dog  extended  his  hot,  red  tongue  and  licked 
his  master's  hand. 

"Tweed  is  the  only  real  friend  I  have  in  the 
world,"  said  the  cowboy,  "  and  if  anything  happened 
to  him,  I  shouldn't  care  to  live.  I've  been  up  all 
night  with  him,  though  I  ain't  far  from  ill  myself, 
and  I  think  he's  a  trifle  better." 

He  smoothed  the  bonnie  dog's  brow,  and  Wilson 
was  certain  a  tear  fell  thereon. 

"  Ah !  stranger,"  he  said,  "  tlie  hardest  bit  to  bear 
is  this.  I've  so  often  neglected  Tweed  when  on  the 
roar  !  Oh,  the  accursed  drink  I  But  nevermore.  No, 
nevermore ;  and  if  you'll  only  live  Tweed,  we'll  both 
be  as  happy  as  the  birds  that  sing." 

Wilson  had  sadly  misjudged  poor  Nate,  then ;  for 
surely  a  man  who  could  so  sympathise  with  a  sick 
and  suffering  dog  must  have  some  good  in  his  heart. 
What  think  you,  reader? 


CHAPTER   XI 

A  BUCK-JUIMPING  EXPERIENCE 

"  A  horse  !     A  horse  !     My  kingdom  for  a  horse  !  " 

'Tis  true,  'tis  pity ;  and  pity  'tis,  'tis  true,  that  not 
only  in  our  own  country,  but  in  other  lands  as  well, 
the  very  best  hearted  men,  and  those  of  the  brightest 
intellect,  all  too  often  become  slaves  of  the  most  fear- 
ful Fiend  that  stalks  this  earth  by  day  or  night,  and 
that  is  Drink. 

'Tis  true,  moreover,  and  more's  the  pity  that  it 
is  true,  that  having  once  fallen,  very  few  ever  get 
up  again.  They  sink  lower  and  lower  in  the  mire, 
until  it  closes  over  their  heads,  and  their  eyes  are 
shut  in  the  darkness  of  death. 

But  grief  for  his  noble,  faithful  dog,  seemed  really 
to  have  worked  wonders  as  far  as  Nate  was  con- 
cerned. He  was,  to  all  appearance,  a  new  man. 
Tweed  and  he  were  never  separate  now,  and  Nate 
never  forgot  to  feed  him  or  give  him  the  best  water 
to  be  procured. 

He  did  not  abandon  his  visits  to  the  saloon.  He 
was  no  coward,  and  came  there  of  an  evening  just  as 
before.  But  that  poisonous  whisky  which  he  used  to 
sing  about  had  no  longer  an}^  charms  for  him. 

1 08 


A  BUCK-,TUMPING   EXPERIENCE  IO9 

The  landlord  welcomed  him  just  the  same,  how- 
ever; for  he  spent  his  money  freely  enough  on  others, 
if  not  on  himself. 

Wilson  Webb  had  not  been  many  weeks  in  "  TF^'re- 
all-here  "  before  becoming  a  general  favourite.  That 
fiddle  of  his  was  in  much  repute.  Moreover,  his 
lectures  were  a  great  success ;  not  financially,  of 
course.  He  lectured  gratuitously,  his  only  reward 
being  the  thought  that  he  was  giving  pleasure  to 
these  brave,  though  half-wild,  cowboys ;  their  rapt 
attention  was  his  best  reward,  and  their  hearty  bursts 
of  applause  and  laughter  were  to  him  the  greatest 
reward,  and  far  better  than  many  silver  dollars. 

But  much  of  Wilson's  time  was  spent,  by  day, 
either  in  shooting,  or  riding  on  the  plains,  assisting 
the  cowboys  with  their  work. 

Farther  to  the  east  civilisation  had  already  put  in 
an  appearance,  and  each  man's  herd  of  cattle  was 
fenced  in  with  wire,  barbed  or  otherwise.  But  here 
the  cattle  still  roamed  free  over  the  prairie,  and  the 
owners  could  only  tell  their  own  j^roperty  by  the 
brands. 

It  was  the  young  calves  that  had  to  suffer  the 
torture  of  branding  with  the  red-hot  iron,  and  cruelty 
of  a  revolting  character  it  really  seemed  to  Wilson 
Webb,  who  was  probably  far  too  tender-hearted  to 
make  up  as  a  typical  cowboy. 

Nevertheless,  he  did  his  best,  and  if  he  did  not 
quite  succeed,  it  was  not  for  lack  of  trying  or  dint  of 
hard  work. 


no  A   BUCK-JUMriNG  EXPERIENCE 

Buffalo  Bill  and  his  company  have  made  us  all 
familiar  with  the  rig-out  of  the  cowboy,  and  Wilson 
took  a  lesson  from  those  around  him  and  dressed 
just  as  they  did,  although  for  a  long  time  he  and  liis 
strange  boots  were  at  daggers  drawn.  Nor  did  he 
altogether  relish  at  first  the  broad  felt  hat,  but  he 
soon  found  that  in  galloping  over  the  plains  it  was 
just  the  right  thing  in  the  right  place. 

Wilson's  broncho  continued  to  carry  him  splen- 
didly, and  under  the  kindly  tuition  of  the  cowboys 
he  soon  learned  all  the  outs  and  ins  of  ranch  life, 
even  to  the  roping  of  the  wilder  cattle,  or  throwing 
the  lasso. 

Rightly  or  wrongly,  I  have  always  considered  this 
the  very  acme  of  the  cowboy's  art. 

Well  away  out  eastwards  in  his  journey  towards 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  Wilson  had  passed  many 
ranches,  the  very  civilisation  of  which  did  not  please 
him,  although  he  and  his  waggoners  were  well 
received  and  kindly  treated.  But  these  ranchers  had 
their  flocks  wired  in.  They  grew  grass  or  hay  too, 
and  even  grain  for  their  bronchos.  There  wasn't 
enough  romance  here  to  satisfy  the  young  man,  so 
"  Westward  ho  ! "  had  ever  been  his  song,  and  ad- 
venturous soul  that  he  was,  I  do  not  think  he  ever 
regretted  coming  to  the  strange  life  of  "TFe're-all- 
here." 

Autumn  was  coming  on  now.  It  was  nearing  that 
season  whicli  the  Scots  so  beautifully  express  in  those 
words,  "  Tlie  fa'  o'  the  year." 


A   BUCK-JUMl'ING   EXPEKIKXCI-:  III 

The  town  was  neither  in  the  north  nor  south 
countries,  properly  speaking,  but  midway  between. 
But  on  the  ijhiins  towards  the  east  it  was  roup-h 
enough  in  all  conscience,  and  picturesque  as  well, 
without  being  actually  romantic. 

It  was  towards  tlie  everlasting  hills  and  mountains 
that  the  romance  and  beauty,  too,  abode  forever  and 
for  aye. 

Out  there  it  is  sweet  and  delightful  indeed,  to 
watch  the  coming  of  the  spring. 

The  ancients  used  to  depict  the  goddess  of  spring 
as  a  beautiful  lady  with  clinging,  trailing  garments  of 
many  bright  colours,  gliding  across  the  land  and  scat- 
tering from  her  lap  flowers  of  every  shape  and  hue. 

So  might  we  imagine  her  in  the  month  of  April  in 
these  far-off  hills  and  in  the  dells. 

Softer  winds  are  blowing  now.  Balmy  they  well 
may  be  called;  for  dreary  winter  finds  no  longer  a 
place  on  the  foot-hills,  but  must  climb  higher  and 
higher  up  the  bluff  sierras.  But  the  melting  snows 
flood  all  the  springs,  and  the  snow  that  only  a  month 
or  two  ago  was  falling  fast,  is  now  changed  into 
sleet  or  rain. 

The  rain  raineth  not  every  day,  however ;  for  there 
are  very  many  hours  of  gladsome  sunshine,  —  sun- 
shine that  maketh  joyful  the  heart  of  many  a  bird 
and  beast.  There  are  buds  now,  downy  buds,  on  the 
silvery  bough ;  there  are  dusky  green  leaves  on  many 
a  bush  and  flowering  tree. 

Flocks  of  mallards  fly  overhead,  bound  for  the  far 


112  A   BUCK-JUMPING   EXl'ERIENCE 

north.  Willow  grouse  are  everywhere.  Many  a  wild 
bird  'gins  to  twitter  and  to  sing,  and  the  woods  are 
carpeted  with  anemones  snow-white  and  pink,  and 
with  the  tender  blossoms  of  sorrel. 

And  the  green  on  the  river  banks  grows  broader 
and  broader,  and  spreads  out  all  over  the  land.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  hopeful  time. 

The  ranch  cattle  feel  it  and  know  it.  For  the 
misery  and  wretchedness  of  winter  is  past,  and  the 
cow  can  gladsomely  now  lead  her  innocent  wee  dot 
of  a  calf  afield.  Yet  not  without  danger;  for  the 
goddess  of  spring,  who  has  been  scattering  bud  and 
burgeon  of  wild  flowers  everywhere,  has  awakened 
not  only  harmless  wee  squirrels  and  wise-looking 
mountain  rats,  but  wolves  as  well,  and  many  an 
innocent  little  calf  falls  a  bleeding  victim  to  their 
ferocity,  bravely  though  the  mother  may  try  to  de- 
fend them.  Yes,  and  oftentimes  die  in  defending 
them.  Her  carcass  then  becomes  a  prey  to  the  wily 
fox,  to  the  yelping  coyote,  and  swooping  eagle. 

But  spring  has  awakened  a  far  more  formidable  ani- 
mal,—  the  grizzly  bear.  But  from  the  cave  in  which 
he  has  been  slumbering,  snowed  up  all  the  winter, 
gaunt,  bony,  and  fierce  crawls  he  now.  He  yawns  as 
he  gazes  sleepily  around  him.  Yawns  and  stretches 
himself.  Yet  so  hungry  is  he  that  he  will  gladly 
devour  even  the  rattlesnake,  which  basks  yonder  on 
the  sun-heated  rock.  Ah!  but  he  is  in  luck,  for  a 
deer  comes  by,  all  unconscious  that  death,  in  the 
shape  of  that  fearsome  grizzly,  is  anywhere  so  near. 


A  BUCK-JUMriNG   EXPERIENCE  113 

Next  moment,  the  agile  creature  is  seized  by  the 
neck  or  shoulder;  the  bear  is  growling  and  splutter- 
ing now,  and  the  blood,  in  little  jets  and  fountains,  is 
"scirping"  in  all  directions. 

But  autumn  comes. 

The  leaves  on  the  trees  are  crisp  and  sear ;  brown, 
crimson,  or  yellow.  There  is  a  cooler,  clearer,  and 
more  bracing  atmosphere  now.  Rain  falls  ;  the  grass, 
burned  almost  into  hay  by  the  fierce  heat  of  the  sum- 
mer's sun,  gets  gTeener.  Antelopes  and  deer  browse 
here,  there,  and  everywhere.  There  are  bears  on  the 
mountains ;  there  are  mallards  on  every  creek  and 
stream ;  there  are  ravens  hovering  over  carcasses 
of  defunct  cattle,  and  they  croak  and  rustle  their 
hard  wings  as  they  tear  and  swallow  the  putrid 
flesh. 

Flocks  of  geese  now  go  southward,  and  many 
species  of  wild  birds,  the  song  of  which  was  so 
sweet  and  beautiful,  follow  their  example. 

The  puma,  too,  or  mountain  lion,  loves  the  sun- 
shine of  warmer  climates,  though  he  likes  it  not  too 
hot.  He  seeks  the  solitudes  of  southern  forests  in 
autumn,  and,  hiding  in  darkling  pines,  is  a  nightmare 
to  many  a  w^andering  deer. 

Wilson  Webb  takes  his  place  now,  like  an  old  hand, 
among  the  cowboys  who  seek  the  plains  to  "  cut  out," 
or  assist  in  a  round-up.  He  has  even  learned  tlie  cow- 
boy's wild  shriek  or  yell,  as  he  goes  madly  dashing 
eastwards.     It  is  all  so  very  exciting. 

We  have  no  English  sport  to  be  compared  with  it. 
I 


114  A   BUCK-JUMPING   EXPERIENCE 

Talk  about  fox-hunting,  why,  it  is  tame  in  compari- 
son. 

And  what  English  fox-hunter,  I  wonder,  would 
care  to  ride  a  buck-jumper?  Yet  the  successful 
management  of  even  these  unruly  steeds,  had  been 
part  and  parcel  of  Wilson's  cowboy  education. 

In  their  cave  on  the  moorland  in  far-off  England 
our  3^ounger  heroes  read  with  delight  a  letter  de- 
scribing Wilson's  first  experience  with  a  buck-jumper, 
and  after  she  had  heard  it  read,  Leebie's  bonnie  eyes 
sparkled. 

"  Oh,"  cried  the  brave  little  maid,  "  I'm  sure  I 
should  like  to  try  a  buck-jumper  myself  I" 

"  I  got  on  right  enough,  dear  boj's,"  ran  the  epis- 
tle. "  I  had  patted  the  beast  before  I  mounted,  and 
whispered  something  in  his  ear.  I  had  often  noticed 
the  cowboys  doing  this,  but  didn't  know  what  they 
said. 

"  What  I  said,  boys,  was  this  :  '  You  dear,  delight- 
ful old  buck-jumper,  I  love  you  lots  more  than  I  can 
tell  you.  But  we'll  get  on  ever  so  much  better  if 
3'ou  don't  buck-jump  with  me.     There's  a  darling.' 

"  Well,  lads,  my  buck-jumper  simply  threw  back 
his  ears,  and  showed  a  good  deal  more  of  the  Avhites 
of  his  eyes  than  I  cared  to  see. 

"  On  I  vaulted,  and  awa}^  we  went.  '  Oh,'  I  said  to 
myself,  '  it  is  going  to  be  easy  sailing,  after  all,'  and 
I  patted  ni}^  steed  on  the  neck,  as  we  raced  pleasantly 
over  the  plain. 

"  But  the  darling  suddenly  changed  his  mind,  and 


A  BUCK-JUMPING  EXPERIENCE  115 

stopped  so  suddenly  that  I  found  myself  on  his  neck, 
in  front  of  the  saddle,  anyhow. 

" '  You've  got  to  go  off,'  he  seemed  to  say ;  '  and 
tlie  quicker  you  are  about  it,  the  better  I  shall  be 
pleased.' 

"I  got  into  the  saddle  immediately  again,  stuck 
the  rowels  into  his  side,  and  being  very  angry, 
brought  my  whip  down  on  his  neck  and  ears,  as 
hard  as  I  knew  how  to. 

"  He  tossed  his  head  vengefully,  from  side  to  side, 
and  screamed  like  an  equine  demon. 

"  His  next  motion  showed  considerable  skill,  though 
I  hardl}'  know  how  it  was  effected.  One  thing,  how- 
ever, was  patent  enough  to  me,  and  that  was  the 
result;  but  he  seemed  to  bring  his  fore  and  hind  feet 
close  together,  and  arched  his  back,  then  straight- 
ened suddenly  out  again,  like  lialf  a  hundredweight 
of  whalebone. 

"  There  was  a  pale  half-moon  in  the  sky,  the  leav- 
ings of  last  night,  so  to  speak,  and  I  flew  up  towards 
it ;  so  high,  indeed,  that  I  was  just  thinking  of  gi-asp- 
ing  one  of  its  horns,  wlien  down  I  came  again,  flop, 
into  the  saddle. 

"  It  did,  indeed,  hurt. 

"■But  I  was  no  sooner  down  than  I  was  «p'  once 
more,  and  no  sooner  up  than  I  was  down,  and  each 
descent  was  more  painful  than  tlie  last. 

"Then  the  brute,  seeing  he  could  not  unsliip  me 
in  this  way,  tried  new  tactics.  He  went  whirling 
round  and  round  and  round,  and  linallv,  when  he 


Il6  A   BUCK-JUMPING  EXPERIENCE 

seemed  to  know  that  my  brain  was  all  upside  down, 
with  one  wild,  triumphant  scream  he  tossed  his  hind 
legs  high  in  the  air,  and  over  his  head  I  flew. 

"  I  alighted  on  my  broad  back,  lads,  with  my  head 
to  the  golden  west  and  my  legs  pointing  to  the 
moon,  and  my  steed,  who  had  now  quite  recovered 
his  complacency,  went  trotting  after  the  boys,  the 
most  contented  and  good-natured  beast  I  had  ever 
seen  during  my  long  and  checkered  career. 

"  I  am  sitting  on  a  cushion  of  soft  hay,  as  I  write 
these  lines,  and  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  chance 
of  my  riding  even  my  own  broncho  for  days  to  come." 


CHAPTER   XII 

IT    WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT    WHILE   IT    LASTED 

"  Hark !    That  thrilling  awful  sound ; 
It  is  the  lion's  roar."  —  Anon. 

Autumn,  with  its  mournful  days  and  moaning 
winds,  passed  away,  and  oftentimes  the  sky  was 
dark  and  overcast,  and  showers  of  sleet-like  clouds 
of  Scottish  mist  went  whirling  along  the  mountain 
sides. 

Though  the  puma  has  gone  south  and  south,  and 
all  the  migratory  song-birds  have  fled  or  flown  away ; 
tliough  the  rattlesnakes  bask  no  longer  on  grey  rocks 
or  clay,  and  the  bears  have  gone  to  sleep  in  caves 
high  up  the  hills,  the  deer  have  become  far  tamer, 
and  are  found  not  far  from  the  foot-hills  and  in  herds, 
browsing  on  whatever  Providence  has  spared  them. 
There  are  plenty  of  mallards  still  to  be  shot,  how- 
ever, and  so  Wilson  Webb  gets  good  sport  —  sport 
that  helps  to  eke  out  provisions,  too.  And  those  birds 
will  remain  here  as  long  as  there  is  open  water. 

High  up  the  stream  where  the  current  was  strong, 
forming  many  a  rapid  and  cataract,  and  farther  down, 
perhaps,  ceasing  to  flow  entirely  and  forming  a  beau- 
tiful, brOwn,  fish-haunted  pool,  the  great  otter  loved 

117 


Il8  IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT 

to  live  and  dwell  when  summer  days  were  fine,  and 
eke  in  autumn,  too ;  but  now  he,  too,  came  d(jwn  the 
river. 

Then  fell  the  first  snow,  and  one  morning  when 
Wilson  opened  the  door  of  his  shanty,  the  world  was 
robed  in  white.  The  flakes  liad  ceased  to  fall  for  a 
time,  however,  and  the  sun  was  shining  on  the  daz- 
zling plain — shining  from  rifts  of  sweetest  blue  ;  yet 
far  in  the  east,  from  which  the  wind  came  moaning 
and  mourning,  black-blue  clouds  were  lumped  along 
the  horizon.  And  had  he  been  a  better  [)lainsnian 
than  he  yet  was,  these  would  have  told  him  that  a 
storm  was  brewing. 

Wilson  had  already  had  breakfast.  But  he  now 
put  on  his  cartridge  belt,  flung  a  kind  of  blanket 
poncho  round  him,  shouldered  his  rifle,  and  started 
off  towards  the  foot-hills.  He  was  promising  liimself 
a  shot  at  something.  He  hoped,  indeed,  to  come  up 
with  some  of  the  grey  wolves  that  he  knew,  from  the 
mournful,  wailing  howls  wliich  he  had  heard  all  night 
long,  were  scouring  the  plains  in  search  of  food. 

He  could  not  find  their  tracks,  however.  These 
had,  no  doubt,  been  covered  up  by  the  falling  snow. 
So  he  wandered  on  and  on,  still  hill-wards,  until  he 
had  put  fully  three  miles  betwixt  him  and  the  town. 

Suddenly  he  stopped. 

Here  were  footprints,  not  far  from  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  which,  although  he  had  never  seen  on  snow 
before,  he  knew  must  belong  to  the  puma,  or  Ameri- 
can lion  —  Felis  concolor. 


IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT  II9 

Tlie  footmarks  were  ver}-  big  and  round,  so  that  it 
was  evident  enough  that  the  beast  must  be  a  large 
one  —  probably  five  feet  in  length. 

"Wilson's  pulse  began  to  beat  more  quickly  now;  he 

felt  something  of 

"  The  stern  joy  that  warriors  feel 
In  foemen  worthy  of  their  steel." 

He  knew,  or  he  thought  he  knew,  the  natural  his- 
tory of  the  American  lion  well.  The  plainsmen,  or 
cowboys,  professed  to  have  but  little  fear  of  it.  This 
terrible  cat,  they  had  told  him,  would  attack  calves 
or  sheep,  slay  them,  and  suck  their  blood,  but  in- 
variably fled  from  man.  This  may  be  true  enough  as 
regards  the  beast  in  summer  time ;  but  a  half-starved 
puma  in  winter  is  a  different  kind  of  animal.  He 
may  have  had  nothing  to  eat  for  a  day  or  two,  and  to 
drink  the  blood  of  a  human  being,  and  devour  a  por- 
tion of  his  flesh  would  mean  life  to  him. 

Anyhow,  Wilson  Webb  looked  to  his  rifle,  and  de- 
termined to  follow  up  the  tracks. 

Sometimes  these  led  him  quite  awa}^  from  the 
river;  at  other  times  they  took  a  circuit  and  brought 
him  back  thereto.  It  was  evident  the  lion  was  on 
the  hunt  for  something  to  satisfy  his  hunger.  But 
now  Wilson  approached  a  thick  willow  wood,  and 
here  the  trees  were  high. 

The  light  shone  here  and  there  in  bright,  confusing 
patches,  but  on  he  went  —  more  slowly  now. 

Suddenly  right  ahead  of  him  and  high  up  he  heard 


I20  IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   EIGHT 

a  coughing  bark  or  roar.  It  was  part  of  both,  and  it 
was  evident  enough  that  the  huge  beast  with  the 
yellow,  fierce  eyes  had  made  up  his  mind  to  give  him 
battle. 

It  was  bad  for  Wilson  that  the  sun  was  in  his  eyes, 
making  it  almost  impossible  to  fire  with  precision. 

He  determined,  therefore,  to  make  half  a  circuit, 
and  so  alter  things  to  his  advantage. 

Whether  or  not  the  puma  now  imagined  that  the 
man  was  about  to  beat  a  retreat,  I  cannot  say ;  but 
with  a  very  startling  yell  that  considerably  shook  the 
young  man's  nerves,  he  sprang  from  the  tree  and 
advanced,  creeping,  crouching,  fearsome. 

Wilson  fired  at  once.  That  he  wounded  the 
puma  the  cry  of  rage  and  pain  told  him  plainly 
enough,  but  hardly  had  he  succeeded  in  drawing 
his  bowie-knife  before  the  beast  was  at  him,  on  him. 

He  fell ;  he  below,  the  lion  above,  its  hot  breath 
blowing  in  his  face,  its  warm  blood  spurting  all  over 
him.  For  Wilson  had  struck  out  again  and  again 
with  desperation,  and  every  blow,  luckily  for  him, 
told. 

The  brute  had  seized  his  poncho,  and  this  probably 
saved  the  hunter's  throat  or  face. 

It  was  a  terrible  fight  while  it  lasted,  but  soon,  to 
his  joy,  the  puma  slackened  his  hold  and  slid  down 
by  his  side  —  dead,  on  the  brown  blood-sprinkled 
snow. 

It  took  Wilson  some  considerable  time  to  recover  his 
breath  and  his  sang-froid.     Indeed,  so  hot  was  he  that 


IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT  121 

he  was  fain  to  stretch  himself  on  the  snow,  not  far 
from  the  dead  lion. 

He  lay  thus  for  a  considerable  time ;  then  making 
perfectly  sure  that  the  beast  was  dead,  he  quietly 
proceeded  to  skin  it. 

He  was  quite  an  adept  at  this  sort  of  thing,  and 
very  soon  the  carcass  was  denuded  of  its  jacket. 

"I  wish,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "that  I  had  not 
made  so  many  holes  in  it.  I  have  almost  spoiled  the 
skin." 

So  busily  and  intently  engaged  at  his  work  was  he, 
that  not  until  he  had  finished  did  he  observe  that 
the  clouds  had  banked  up,  and  hidden  the  sun  and 
that  the  air  was  filled  with  falling  snow. 

This  was  not  the  worst ;  the  wind  had  risen  and 
came  moaning  from  the  east  in  fitful  gusts  and  the 
temperature  had  fallen  considerably. 

He  must  make  all  haste  to  get  back  homewards. 
He  was  determined,  however,  not  to  lose  the  splendid 
skin.  Such  a  trophy  was  well  worth  preserving. 
So  he  made  it  up  in  a  roll,  which  he  was  just  about 
to  fasten  to  his  girdle  when  he  heard  a  blood-curdling, 
wailing  howl,  that,  brave  as  he  was,  caused  his  heart 
to  almost  stand  still. 

Right  well  did  he  know  what  it  was.  The  wild 
grey  wolves  had  scented  blood,  and  were  bearing 
down  upon  him  in  a  pack.  There  was  not  a  moment 
to  lose.  So,  still  holding  on  to  that  roll  of  skin  and 
to  his  rifle,  he  seized  a  branch  and  quickly  drew  him- 
self up  into  a  good-sized  tree. 


122  IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT 

For  a  time,  at  all  events,  he  was  safe.  The  wolves 
would  scatter  and  go  onward,  he  told  himself,  as 
soon  as  they  had  finished  the  carcass  of  the  puma. 

There  were  thirty  of  them,  at  least,  tall  and  fierce 
and  grey,  and  the  way  they  snarled  and  fought  over 
the  flesh  told  Wilson  Webb  that  terrible,  indeed, 
would  be  his  doom,  if,  by  any  accident,  he  should 
fall  into  their  clutches. 

But  they  had  finished  at  last,  and  now  surrounded 
the  tree,  lifting  up  their  voices  in  hideous  shrieks  and 
wailings. 

They  could  not  climb,  it  is  true ;  but  they  had 
sense  enough  to  spring,  and  they  knew,  too,  that  if 
tliey  took  a  short  race  to  it,  the  leap  would  be  higlier. 

More  than  once,  then,  a  huge  monster  sprang  so 
high  that  he  had  all  but  seized  the  brave  hunter  by 
the  foot.  This  was  a  species  of  danger  he  could  not 
have  foreseen. 

Why  not  climb  higher  up  into  the  tree?  one  may 
ask.  Slm[)ly  because  the  branches  wonld  scarcely 
have  borne  his  weight,  or  they  might  have  bent  to  it, 
letting  him  fall  into  the  very  midst  of  the  howling 
pack,  when  short,  indeed,  would  have  been  liis  shrift. 

He  hung  the  skin  higlier  above  liim,  however,  and 
reloading  his  rifle,  took  aim  and  fired.  The  wolf  he 
struck  fell,  uttering  the  most  piercing  yells,  and  his 
companions  not  only  speedily  put  him  out  of  his 
misery,  but  tore  him  limb  from  liinb. 

Wilson  found  now  that  he  had  but  few  cartridges 
in  his  belt,  and  determined  to  save  them. 


THEY    SURROUNDED    THE   TREE. 


IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT  125 

But  liow  bitterly  cold  it  had  suddenl}^  become ! 
How  thick  the  snow !  how  wild  the  wind !  He  had 
heard  of  the  blizzards  that  often  swept  over  these 
plains  and  foot-hills,  even  in  early  winter,  and  un- 
doubtedly this  was  one  of  them.. 

Could  anything  save  him  from  the  death  that 
seemed  so  imminent?  He  must  soon  be  numbed, 
thoroughly  numbed,  and  then  he  should  fall  from 
the  tree,  half-frozen,  into  the  very  centre  of  that  pack 
of  waiting  wolves.  Even  they  seemed  to  feel  the 
terrible  cold,  and  now  huddled  close  together  or  lay 
on  top  of  each  other  in  a  heap. 

***** 

A  whole  hour  must  have  gone  past,  but  still  the 
storm  raged  on. 

He  had  somehow  become  regardless,  by  this  time, 
as  to  what  his  fate  might  be.  At  times  he  caught 
himself  nodding,  and  twice  he  saved  himself  from  fall- 
ing only  by  an  extreme  effort  of  will  power. 

Half  asleep,  half  dreaming  as  he  was,  a  happy 
thought,  which  was  almost  an  inspiration,  now 
crossed  his  mind.  Luckily  he  had  brought  with 
him  a  rope,  or  lariat,  and  so,  willi  half-frozen 
fingers,  he  proceeded  to  make  himself  fast  to  the 
stem  of  the  tree,  as  many  a  poor  sailor  does,  at  sea, 
to  the  rigging  of  his  tempest-tossed  barque. 

He  felt  comparatively  safe  after  this. 

But  the  intense  cold  had  taken  terrible  hold  of  his 
heart  and  brain. 

Presently,  he  seemed  to  be  in  the  tree  no  longer. 


124  IT   WAS   A  TERRIBLE   FIGHT 

He  was  far  away  in  Merry  England.  He  was  on 
the  moor,  on  the  children's  prairie  land,  and  they 
were  near  him,  all  merry,  happy,  and  gay. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  beautiful  dream ! 

But,  ah,  me !  such  dreams  do  often  usher  in  cold 
death  itself. 

Wilson's  head  had  dropped  forward  on  his  chest, 
his  cheeks  were  covered  with  ice,  his  hair  was 
matted  with  frozen  snow. 

And,  oh  !  the  wind,  the  wind !  How  bitterly,  how 
mercilessly,  it  blew ! 

His  feet  were  already,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
dead,  and  death  was  creeping  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  heart  itself ;  but  long  before  it  should  reach  it, 
all  would  be  over. 

***** 

About  ten  o'clock  on  that  same  day,  Nate  Buster 
had  occasion  to  call  at  Wilson's  shanty,  and  Tweed 
went  with  him.  The  blizzard  was  just  then  begin- 
ning to  blow  and  roar  like  wild  beasts  in  the  far 
distance. 

When  the  young  man's  landlady  told  Nate  that 
he  had  left  two  hours  before,  with  his  rifle  across 
his  shoulder,  and  had  taken  his  way  towards  the 
foot-hills,  for  a  few  moments  Buster  seemed  com- 
pletely taken  aback. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  English  friend  !  "  he  cried.  "  We 
will  never,  never  see  him  more." 

But  it  was  a  time  for  action,  and  if  anything 
could  be  douQ,  Nate  was  just  the  man  to  attempt  it. 


IT  AYAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT  1 2$ 

He  quickly  now  flew  from  house  to  house  to  tell 
the  sad  tidings,  and  in  fifteen  minutes'  time,  ten  bold 
horsemen  were  speeding  westwards  as  quickly  as 
tlie  blinding  drift  and  snow  would  permit. 

But  there  was  soon  nothing  to  direct  them,  and 
hope  itself  seemed  to  sink  in  every  heart.  But  see, 
what  is  that  on  ahead,  feathering  through  the  snow  ? 
Why,  it  is  honest  Tweed,  and  he  can  be  but  dimly 
seen,  so  thickly  is  he  coated  with  snow. 

The  men  can  only  talk  in  signs,  but  the  doctor 
and  Nate  are  both  pointing  towards  the  dog.  He 
is  taking  the  wrong  direction,  apparently,  but  yet 
they  determine  to  follow  him. 

On  and  on  and  on. 

And  now,  from  far  ahead  of  them,  comes  the  wail- 
ing, sobbing  sound  of  a  pack  of  wolves.  Tweed 
answers  it  with  defiant  barks,  and  hope  settles  down 
once  more  in  every  breast.  But  suddenly  all  sounds 
cease.  Even  the  dog  seems  puzzled  now,  and  for 
a  whole  half-hour  runs  hither  and  thither  aimlessly. 

The  men  are  just  thinking  of  giving  up  the  search. 
So  terrible  is  now  the  blizzard,  that  they  begin  to 
doubt  whether  their  snorting,  gasping  horses  will  be 
able  to  carry  them  home  again. 

But,  see !  Tweed  is  once  more  on  the  trail,  and  bark- 
ing anxiously,  joyfully.  On  they  speed  again,  and 
very  soon  they  reach  the  wood,  and  are  close  to  the 
pack  of  half-frozen  wolves. 

A  volley  is  fired  into  their  very  midst,  and  so 
closely   are  they  huddled   together,  that   many  are 


126  IT   WAS   A   TEUKIBLE   FIGHT 

killed  and  many  more  crawl  off  wounded,  to  perish 
afterwards  in  the  snow. 

But  where  is  Wilson?  Can  the  wolves  have  de- 
voured him? 

No,  for  Tweed,  with  his  nose  in  the  air,  is  barking 
joyfully  up  at  the  tree. 

Nate  himself  and  the  doctor  —  both  are  young 
and  active  —  are  soon  up.  The  lariat  is  loosened, 
and  Wilson  Webb's  half-frozen  body  lowered  to  the 
ground. 

But  some  attempt  to  bring  him  round  must  be 
made  before  the  start,  else  they  would  reach  the 
city  of  shanties  carrying  a  corpse. 

So  a  kind  of  shelter  from  the  cutting  blast  is 
speedily  formed,  and  the  men  take  turns  in  rub- 
bing and  chafing  the  seemingly  dead  man's  limbs 
and  body.  And  soon  they  have  the  intense  satis- 
faction of  hearing  him  moan  as  if  in  pain. 

Presently  he  opens  his  eyes  and  smiles  faintly. 

"  Saved ! "  cries  Nate.  "  God  in  heaven  high  be 
praised ! " 

"  Saved !  yes,  saved !  "  cries  the  doctor. 

Then  he  puts  a  flask  to  Wilson's  lips,  and  bids 
him  sip  and  swallow. 

And  soon  he  is  so  far  revived  that  with  a  little 
support  he  can  sit  up. 

He  gazes  around  him  for  a  few  moments  be- 
wilderedly,  but  he  seems  to  know  both  Nate  and 
the  doctor.  He  nods  and  smiles  and  tries  to  speak. 
But  his  lips  are  still  half  frozen  and  powerless. 


IT   WAS   A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT  12/ 

"The  poo-lioo's  sli-sh-sliin  I  "  he  mutters  more  than 
once. 

The  doctor  shakes  his  head. 

"  The  poor  feUow  is  raving  I  *'  he  says. 

But  Wilson  evidently  refuses  to  admit  that  he  is 
not  sensible  enough. 

"  Waving  I  "  he  says.  "  No,  no,  no.  No  t'all.  The 
poo-hoo's  sh-shin.     Must  'ave  poo-hoo's  shin." 

It  is  Tweed  himself  who  solves  tlie  riddle,  with 
that  marvellous  instinct  which  only  dogs  possess. 

With  a  sharp,  impatient  hark  he  jumps  up,  and 
going  a  few  yards  away,  commences  scraping  and 
snuffing  in  the  snow. 

In  a  few  moments  he  has  dug  up  and  dragged 
forth  a  hideous  red  and  fleshless  skull.  It  is  that 
of  the  puma. 

Tweed  carries  it  towards  poor  Wilson,  and  lays  it 
ceremoniously  by  his  side. 

"  I  have  it !  I  have  it  I  "  cries  Nate  now.  "  Our 
English  friend  has  killed  and  skinned  the  [)uma, 
and  is  trying  to  tell  us  to  bring  along  the 
skin. 

"The  poo-hoo's  shin,"  he  added,  "means  the  puma's 
skin." 

Wilson  nodded  and  smiled. 

."Away,  good  dog,   and  fetch  I"    cries   Nate,  and 
speedily  the  skin  is  found. 

But  that  march  homeward  was,  indeed,  a  terrible 
struggle  and  test  of  the  strength  and  endurance  of 
these  hardy  cowboys  and  their  horses. 


128  IT   WAS  A   TERRIBLE   FIGHT.  •    , 

They  reached  the  town  at  last,  and  Wilson,  still 
more  dead  than  alive,  was  put  to  bed,  and  only  the 
most  careful  nursing  for  three  days  and  three  nights, 
during  which  time  Nate  hardly  ever  left  the  room, 
sufficed  to  brinof  him  round  at  last. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  GREAT   SPRING   "  ROUND-UP " 

"  See,  Wintei-  comes  to  rule  the  varied  year."  —  Thomson. 

Snow  and  ice  !     Ice  and  snow  everywhere  ! 

The  stream  has  narrowed  and  narrowed  till  it  is 
now  but  a  dark  and  winding  thread,  meandering 
between  its  banks  of  dazzling  white.  The  birds  — 
mallards  —  remain  but  a  little  longer  now;  for  they 
have  wings  that  can  bear  them  south  and  away  to  a 
land  where  there  is  open  water,  —  a  land  where, 
though  rain  may  fall  heavily,  the  glorious  sun  shines 
many  times  and  oft,  his  warm  beams  not  shorn  by  the 
frost.     Happy  birds ! 

But  here  it  does  not  always  snow.  For  there  are 
days  of  exceeding  brightness  when  the  sun,  like  a 
silver  shield,  sails  along  in  a  sky  of  cloudless  blue 
and  is  reflected  from  plains  of  dazzling  white ;  and 
nights  when  the  moon  is  so  clear  one  can  see  to  read 
by  its  light.  Night  and  silence,  save  for  the  mourn- 
ful cry  of  the  grey  wolves  that  in  small  packs  may 
even  be  seen  at  times  scouring  the  plains  in  search 
of  food ! 

But  it  is  the  cattle  and  horses  that  Wilson  Webb 
pities  most  now.  True  enough,  they  have  been  pro- 
K  129 


130  THE   GREAT   SPRING    "  RUUND-UR  " 

vided  by  nature  with  a  winter  coat  of  long,  thick 
hair,  but  even  this  hardly  suffices  to  withstand  the 
wintry  blast,  and  they  shiver  as  they  are  huddled 
together  in  groups  or  try  by  scraping  to  reach  the 
benevolent  bunch-grass.  It  is  the  want  of  proper 
sustenance  that  is  worst  of  all  to  bear.  Had  they 
plenty  of  forage,  plenty  to  eat,  the  blood  would  not 
be  so  thin  and  poor  and  they  would  be  defiant  of  the 
heaviest  storms  that  could  blow. 

Last  autumn  the  best  and  fattest  of  the  flocks 
were,  of  course,  driven  away  to  the  Eastern  markets; 
so  these  poor  beasts  are  the  poorest,  and  many  cows 
succumb  to  the  weather  and  lie  dead  in  the  midst  of 
their  fellows.  Here  is  a  feast  for  the  howling  wolves 
and  for  the  black  and  croaking  raven,  that  loves  to 
stain  his  rough  grey  beak  with  blood  or  carrion. 

But  Wilson  is  not  surprised  to  find  that  the  wind, 
which  goes  wildly  sweeping  across  the  hills,  drives 
before  it  the  powdery  snow,  often  filling  up  the 
ravines  with  drifts  and  often  burying  beasts  alive. 
But  this  very  wind,  in  other  ways,  helps  to  keep  the 
poor  brutes  in  life  ;  for  they  can  find  grass  on  the  hills 
it  has  swept  bare. 

Should  a  slight  thaw  come, —  and  this  often  happens, 
—  succeeded  by  a  harder  frost  than  ever,  the  cattle 
may  become  encrusted  or  caked  with  ice.  They 
often  lose  all  heart  then,  care  not  to  feed,  become 
paralysed,  and  just  lie  down  to  die. 

Wilson  Webb  was  young  and  very  strong,  and  he 
gladly  assisted  the  boj's  now  in  their  long,  wild  rides 


THE   GREAT   SPRING    "ROUND-UP"  13I 

across  the  ranges  to  do  what  they  could  for  tlie 
cattle. 

More  than  once  they  were  caught  in  terrible  bliz- 
zards, and  glad,  indeed,  and  thankful  were  they  when 
they  managed  to  escape  with  life.  They  were  not 
all  invariably  so  lucky.  One  or  two  poor  fellows  even, 
with  their  horses,  had  sunk  to  rise  no  more.  And  were 
no  more  seen,  indeed,  having  mistaken  the  route  and 
wandered  far,  far  away  in  the  wrong  direction.  No 
more  seen,  I  mean,  until  the  spring  "round-up," 
when  their  bodies  would  be  discovered,  —  poor  Luke 
or  poor  Joe,  —  mayhap  at  the  side  of  some  little  bank 
where,  in  vain,  they  had  sought  for  shelter,  or  at  the 
bottom  of  some  rocky  canon  over  which  they  had 
been  hurled,  when  the  blinding,  choking,  remorseless 
blizzard  was  at  its  very  worst. 

Did  Wilson  suffer  ?  No,  he  was  strong  and  wiry, 
and  really  loved  adventure  for  its  own  sake.  He  was 
waxing  hardier  and  hardier  too,  and  fitting  himself, 
though  he  did  not  know  it  then,  to  undergo  the  hard- 
ships and  rigours  of  a  country  far  wilder  and  rougher 
than  even  this. 

Wilson  might  have  been  called  a  "  tenderfoot " 
when  he  first  arrived  in  the  country  of  the  cowboy. 
He  was  very  far,  indeed,  from  being  a  tenderfoot 
now. 

Just  look  at  him  this  afternoon,  and  that  may  be 
almost  any  stormy  afternoon,  as  he  alights  from  his 
broncho  at  the  saloon  door  after  a  long  wild  ride. 
Boys  come  out  to  meet  him,  and  though  drowsy  still. 


132  THE   GREAT   SPRING   "ROUND-UP" 

he  tries  to  smile,  but  his  moustache  is  caked  with  ice 
aucl  his  lips  feel  frozen.  There  is  ice  on  his  eyelids, 
and  ice  on  his  cheeks  —  a  very  mask  of  it. 

But  he  hands  his  horse  to  a  boy,  doffs  his  hat  and 
shakes  it,  and  after  another  boy  has  swept  him  down 
with  a  Avillow  broom,  he  enters. 

Hot  enough  in  here,  in  all  conscience,  and  he  soon 
thaws.  The  landlord  places  before  him  a  huge  mug 
of  fragrant  coffee.  Lizzie  brings  him  biscuits,  and 
soon  he  is  his  own  old  self  once  more. 

Lizzie  brings  him  something  else  a  few  minutes 
after  this. 

The  child  is  a  favourite  of  his  as  well  as  of  the  good 
doctor,  and  really  she  lias  many  very  engaging  ways 
about  her. 

She  fetches  his  fiddle-case.  He  looks  at  it  and 
looks  at  her.  Then  he  looks  at  his  left  hand  and 
blows  upon  his  lingers. 

"  Well,  dear,  if  I  must,  then  I  suppose  I  must,"  he 
says. 

There  are  many  boys  here.  They  have  been  play- 
ing poker,  lounging  around  and  smoking,  but  they 
prepare  to  listen,  and  Wilson's  music  really  enthralls 
them. 

They  beg  of  him  to  play  this,  that,  or  t'other,  their 
favourite  airs;  that  is,  tunes  that  bring  back  to  them 
scenes  long  since  passed  and  gone,  songs  that  their 
mothers  or  sisters  used  to  sing  in  the  days  when  they 
were  very  young,  very  romantic,  and  somewhat  wild. 
Days  when  they  thought  there  must  be  no  life  so 


THE   GREAT   SPRING    "  ROUXD-UP  "  I  33 

free  and  joyous  as  that  of  mounted  cowboy,  with  his 
broad  hat,  his  kriat,  his  strange  boots  and  "  chaps," 
his  knife  and  his  guns. 

Yes,  for  among  the  boys  that  lounge  here  by  the 
counter,  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  performer,  there  is 
more  than  one  gentleman's  son,  young  men  from  the 
East  who  even  now  might  be  enjoying  all  the  pleas- 
ures and  comforts  of  luxury  and  refinement  in  their 
happy  homes  so  far  aw^ay. 

No  wonder  that  one  or  two  of  them,  as  Wilson 
plays,  lift  their  hands  to  their  faces  to  dash  away 
the  tear  they  would  feel  ashamed  their  comrades 
should  see. 

That  violin  of  his  brought  Wilson  Webb  a  fair 
share  of  popularity,  and  I  believe  I  am  not  going  too 
far  when  I  say  he  had  not  an  enemy  in  the  whole 
town.  But  there  was  another  reason  for  this;  he 
never  gambled  nor  played  poker.  Had  he  not  seen 
enough  of  the  gambling  fiend  in  the  old  country  to 
last  him  a  lifetime  ? 

Well,  once  more  winter  wore  away,  and  prepara- 
tions were  now  commenced  for  the  great  "round-up," 
that  takes  place  every  spring. 

This  was  for  the  branding  of  the  calves,  and 
intensely  exciting  work  it  proved. 

Work  for  men,  real  men ;  work  at  which  your  cow- 
ardly queen's  hound  followers  of  England  would  fail 
in  half  a  day. 

But  in  spring  takes  place  what  is  called  the  calf 
round-up,    and    this    not    until    the    calves    are    big 


134  THE   GREAT   SPRING    "ROUND-UP" 

:ind  strong  enough  to  stand  the  branding.  In  the 
free-grass  round-up,  the  cowboy  is  said  to  be  seen 
at  his  very  best ;  for  in  this,  all  the  wild  cattle  have 
to  be  collected,  lieaded  away  and  away  till  they  are 
brought  together  in  one  immense  herd,  and  then 
comes  the  counting  of  them,  the  separating,  and  the 
identification  and  claiming,  each  owner  having  his 
own  brand. 

The  skill,  the  ingenuity,  and  courage  that  are  dis- 
played in  this  round-up  is  nothing  short  of  marvellous. 

There  are  many  spring  or  calf  round-ups  in  a 
free-grass  country,  often  a  dozen  and  more,  and  the 
owners  have  to  go  shares  in  the  expenses.  Each 
district  has,  of  course,  its  head  man,  or  boss,  whose 
duties  are  by  no  means  light,  nor  free  from  respon- 
sibility. 

Well,  this  particular  spring  promised  to  be  very 
fine. 

"  We  never  have  seen  finer  grass,"  said  the  Inde- 
pendent^ "  nor  friskier,  happier  nags,  and  we  are  will- 
ing to  bet  our  best  and  latest  printing  machine  to  a 
new  hat,  that  the  summer  is  going  to  be  a  fine  one." 

These  words  were  printed  in  the  bold  editor's  sec- 
ond edition,  and  he  thouglit  fit  to  give  one  or  two 
warnings  at  the  same  time.  He  put  these  in  words 
that  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  misunderstand. 
"  There  are  one  or  two  softies,  "  the  article  ran,  "  who 
haven't  yet  paid  their  last  subscription.  One  of  these 
is  Bill  Wickens;  another  is  that  mutton-headed  galoot, 
Joe  Farnley.     We  mean  to  lay  for  the  pair  of  them, 


THE   GREAT   SPRING    "ROUND-UP"  1 35 

and  when  we  liave  shot  an  ear  off  each,  they  will  pay 
up,  and  save  the  other  one.  Last  fall  there  were 
some  rustlers  about  on  the  range.  These  cattle- 
thieves  did  a  good  thing  by  their  drive,  and  took 
away  more  fat  beasts  than  our  fellows  could  spare. 
We  give  them  fair  warning  that  if  they  come  again 
in  August,  we  shall  prepare  for  them  some  special 
graves,  and  we  shan't  bury  them  too  deep,  either;  for 
as  a  wild  winter  generally  follows  a  fine  season,  it  is 
only  fair  that  the  grey  wolves  and  the  ravens  should 
have  a  square  meal.  Rustlers,  beware  I  We  happen 
to  know  that  these  lines  will  be  seen  by  the  cattle- 
lifters,  for  our  Independent  finds  its  way  into  every 
part  of  the  known  world,  and  the  British  queen  of 
England  would  not  sit  down  to  her  Sunday's  break- 
fast—  which  is  more  nutritious  than  that  of  a  week- 
day—  were  the  Independent  not  placed  beside  her 
plate.  Now,  God  speed  you,  merry,  merry  cowboys 
all,  and  hurrah !  for  the  spring  round-up." 

As  Wilson  had  never  before  been  at  any  such  great 
meeting,  he  found  quite  a  deal  to  wonder  at,  and  his 
letters  home  to  Leebie  and  the  boys  filled  them  with 
delight  and  envy. 

Of  course,  he  took  his  camera  with  him.  In  fact, 
he  never  went  far  without  it,  and  had  already  made 
quite  a  collection  of  interesting  views  of  everything 
connected  with  life  on  the  ranch,  on  tlie  range,  or  in 
the  city  of  "  TFe're-all-here  "  itself. 

"You'll  have  some  real  hard  riding,"  Nate  told  him 
one  beautiful  evening  earl}^  in  May. 


136  THE   GREAT   SPRING    "ROUND-UP" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Doc,  "  and  if  you're  going  to  go  in 
for  the  sport  in  good  earnest,  you  will  need  five  extra 
horses." 

"  Five  extra  horses  ! " 

"  Yes ;  we'll  all  have  that,  and  more. 

"And,"  continued  Nate,  " mebbe,  as  we've  got  to 
meet  boys  from  all  quarters,  although  you  may  take 
your  guns,  you'd  best  keep  your  temper." 

"  Yes,  sirree,"  said  the  Doc.  "  Nate's  about  right ; 
and  if  they  call  you  British  and  a  tenderfoot,  just 
laugh.  They'll  withdraw  the  insinuations  after 
they've  seen  ye  ride  a  bit." 

Well,  the  start  was  made  at  last,  and  that  very  even- 
ing they  camped  out  on  the  plain.  It  happened  to  be 
a  moonlight  night,  and  very  clear  and  bright  was  the 
sky.  Very  pretty,  too,  looked  the  tents  and  the 
flickering  mess-fires ;  waggons  here,  and  Avaggons 
there,  and  little  herds  of  horses.  But  what  struck 
Wilson  most  was  the  methodical  and  business-like 
way,  in  which  every  matter  of  detail  was  arranged 
and  carried  out.  This  particular  outfit  might  have 
consisted  of  somewhat  under  forty  men,  including 
the  chief  cow-puncher,  captain  or  boss,  and  his  lieu- 
tenant, who  knew  to  a  nicety  the  tricks  and  manners 
of  every  man  Jack  there,  and  what  they  were  fit  for. 
On  the  whole,  the  band  was  like  a  little  army  on  the 
war-path. 

Early  to  bed  was  the  order  of  the  day,  or  rather  of 
the  evening.  And  soon  there  was  little  to  be  heard 
around  the  camp,  except  the  sea-like  moans  of   the 


THE   GREAT   SPRING    "ROUND-UP"  1 37 

dreary  wind,  or  the  mournful  cry  of  owl  or  yelp  of 
coyote  hovering  near  the  camp. 

Wilson  slept  so  soundly  that  when  awakened  at 
length  by  the  shout  of  the  lieutenant  ordering  all 
hands  to  roll  out,  he  could  scarcely  believe  the  day 
had,  indeed,  begun. 

But  he  was  hungry  and  he  was  as  fresh  as  the  wild 
flowers.     Good  signs  both. 

There  was  a  stream  at  no  great  distance,  and  with 
Nate's  collie  Tweed  bounding  by  his  side,  he  mounted 
his  broncho  and  rode  off  to  have  a  swim. 

How   delightfully   cool   and   refreshing   was    that 
bath,  and  I  feel  sure  the  nag  enjoyed  it  quite  as  much 
as  his  master  or  the  dog,  either. 
Breakfast ! 
Saddling ! 

Striking  of  tents  and  horsing  of  waggons!  Up 
and  away  I 

Every  little  corps  or  band  has  its  orders ;  every  one 
knows  his  duty,  the  portion  of  the  plain  to  scour,  the 
cattle  to  head,  and  the  final  place  of  meeting. 

jNIuch  art,  if,  indeed,  I  might  not  call  it  science,  is 
displayed  in  herding  the  wild  and  scattered  cattle  to 
the  meeting-place.  It  is  hard  and  tiring  work,  too, 
especially  on  that  first  day,  before  the  cowboys  have 
been  hardened  or  set  as  it  were  to  their  work. 

What  a  babel  it  is!  With  the  shouting  of  the 
cowboys  whirling  here  and  whirling  there,  sweeping 
and  floating  round  and  round  in  every  attitude  of 
grace  and  wild  beauty  imaginable;  the  neighing  of 


138  THE   GREAT   SPRING    "  ROUND-XTP " 

the  little  liorse  herds  ;  the  lowing  and  moaning  of  the 
frightened  cattle,  and  their  still  more  frightened 
calves ! 

And  what  dust  and  heat  over  all  the  apparently 
chaotic  scene ! 

But  it  is  not  chaos,  and  soon  the  work  of  cutting 
out  commences ;  for  each  mother  with  her  calf  has  to 
be  separated  from  the  general  herd,  the  latter  to  be 
branded  with  the  hot  irons,  with  the  brand  of  the 
mother. 

The  work  is  terribly  hard,  and  Wilson  Webb,  who 
has  his  own  duties  to  perform  and  is,  in  fact,  now  a 
cowboy  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  finds  that  he  must 
mount  another  horse  every  time  he  goes  into  the  herd. 

And  these  horses  or  ponies  really  appear  to  be  as 
wise  as  their  masters. 

A  tally  must  be  kept  of  every  cow  and  calf  thus 
driven  clear  of  the  general  herd. 

Then  comes  the  curving  in  the  air  of  the  long  rope 
or  lasso.  It  swirls  around  the  cowboy's  head,  like  a 
living,  Avrithing  thing,  but  with  lightning  speed;  it 
now  spins  through  the  air,  and  a  calf  is  roped  and 
thrown. 

Next  comes  the  branding;  necessary,  of  course,  but 
painful  and  cruel  on  the  whole.  The  poor  moaning 
mother  can  hardly  be  kept  away. 

"  Oh,  be  gentle  !  Be  gentle,  boys  !  "  she  seems  to 
cry,  and  when  at  last  her  dazed  offspring  staggers  to 
her  side,  her  display  of  affection,  as  she  gently  licks 
the  tender  part,  is  really  more  than  human. 


THE   GREAT   SPRING    "  ROUND-UR  "  1 39 

Well,  when  the  first  day's  work  was  over,  Wilson 
—  and  there  were  many  more  like  him  —  felt  little 
inclination  to  do  anything  else  except  eat  and  sleep. 

He  was  tired  and  made  no  attempt  to  hide  it ;  but 
it  was  a  wholesome,  happy  tiredness. 

His  was  a  dreamless,  solid  slumber  that  night,  and 
every  night  during  the  whole  round-up. 

But  he  had  gained  strength  every  day,  and  after 
the  return  of  the  cowboys,  he  got  out  his  fiddle,  which 
was  always  left  in  the  charge  of  little  Lizzie,  and  the 
lads  had  such  a  dance  as  was  seldom  to  be  witnessed, 
even  in  the  city  of  "  TFt;'re-all-here." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

ON   THE   WAR-PATH 

"Over  the  prairie,  ^Yild,  bleak  and  wide ; 
The  foe  is  ahead  —  and  we  ride,  and  we  ride, 
Our  steeds  flecked  with  foam  —  but,  see  !  they're  in  sight ! 
Steady  !  men,  steady  ! —  and  now  for  the  fight." 

The  fiercely  hot  summer  passed  on  and  away,  and 
then  preparations  were  made  for  the  beef  round-up. 
Yet  hot  though  the  summer  had  been,  it  was  not, 
strange  to  say,  a  dry  one.  So  the  grass  had  been  abun- 
dant ;  and  the  cattle,  on  inspection,  were  found  to  be 
in  fine  condition,  and  quite  fit  to  be  driven  off  to 
Northern  or  Eastern  markets  or  railway  stations. 

Whether  the  Independent  had  or  had  not  so  large 
a  circulation  as  bold  Mr.  Whetstone  was  pleased  to 
claim  for  it,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say.  And  to  his 
assertion  that  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  would  refuse 
her  Sunday-morning  meal,  did  not  this  somewhat  high- 
flavoured  and  greasy  sheet  flank  her  plate  of  liver 
and  bacon,  I  think  the  editor  was  drawing  the  long 
bow.  Anyhow,  his  warning  to  the  rustlers,  or  cattle 
thieves,  proved  all  in  vain  ;  for  one  evening,  as  Wil- 
son and  the  Doc.  were  enjoying  a  pipe  on  the  verandah 
of  the  saloon,  little  Lizzie,  as  usual,  on  the  medico's 

140 


ON   THE   WAR-PATH  14I 

knee,  the  trampling  hoofs  of  a  galloping  horse  could 
be  lieard  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and  presently 
IiJ"ate  himself  pulled  his  dust-stained,  perspiring  nag 
right  on  his  haunches  beside  them. 

"  Doctor,"  he  cried,  "  and  3^ou,  Webb !  Up,  men  ! 
up  !  and  help  me  to  rouse  the  camp  and  city.  The 
rustlers  have  been  onto  us.  The  dog-gone  thieves  and 
scoundrels  have  cut  out  and  got  away,  with  a  whole 
drove  of  our  beefiest  and  best." 

Here  was  news,  indeed;  and  the  whole  of  the  city 
of  "  TFg're-all-here "  was  speedily  aroused  and  pre- 
paring for  action. 

"This  is  to  be  a  fight  to  the  death,  boys,"  said 
Whetstone  ;  "  though  dying  in  any  ordinar'  way  is  a 
dang'd  sight  too  good  for  those  durned  rustlers. 
Well,  ye  can't  say  that  we  ourself,  in  the  cols,  of  the 
Independent,  didn't  give  you  warning.  I  takes  the 
command  in  person,  therefore,  of  this  'ere  expedition, 
and  I  appoints  Nate  Buster,  Wilson  Webb,  and  the 
brave  Doc.  here  my  chief  officers.  Take  your  tools, 
Doc,  for  we  mean  business,  and  you'll  have  bullets 
to  extract  on  our  side,  as  well  as  men  to  kill  on  the 
other." 

Tlic  cowboys  raised  a  cheer,  and  the  very  horses 
held  their  lieads  on  high,  as  if  they  knew  they  were 
going  on  the  war-path,  and  in  imagination  sniffed  the 
battle  from  afar. 

The  cowboys  were  now  drawn  up  in  line  for  in- 
spection ;  for  nothing  must  be  forgotten.  Stores  of 
ammunition  must  be  taken,  as  well  as  stores  of  food. 


142  ON  THE   WAll-PATH 

Then  the  men  were  ordered  to  dismount,  and  while 
the  bronchos  were  feeding,  they  had  their  final  meal 
and  their  final  drink. 

Then  good-byes  were  said  to  those  to  be  left  behind, 
and  the  order  was  given  to  "  mount  and  ride." 

This  was  to  be  an  adventure  out  of  the  common. 
Wilson  Webb  felt  sure  enough  of  that,  though  he 
could  not  have  foreseen  how  grimly  it  was  going  to 
end. 

The  days  were  still  very  long,  and,  moreover,  there 
would  be  a  round  moon  shining  all  night  long,  in  a 
cloudless,  greenish-yellow  sky. 

After  they  had  ridden  about  ten  miles,  the  sun 
having  gone  down  behind  the  grand  old  sierras  in 
a  dazzling  orange  haze,  they  dismounted  by  the  banks 
of  a  stream,  where  the  horses  could  drink  and  graze 
for  half  an  hour. 

Then  the  stream  was  forded,  and  on  they  rode 
once  more.  But  Nate,  who  was  riding  on  a  little 
way  ahead,  his  object  being  to  fall  in  with  the  trail 
of  the  rustlers,  had  humanely  lifted  Tweed,  and  held 
him  on  the  saddle  in  front  of  him,  else  the  poor  fellow 
would  have  been  exhausted. 

Although,  before  encamping  for  a  few  hours'  rest, 
they  did  come  upon  the  trail,  which  was  so  distinct 
that  a  baby  could  have  followed  it,  the  rustlers  had 
at  least  two  days'  start  of  them,  and  so  it  would  take 
some  time  to  come  up  with  them  —  if  ever  they  did. 

Supper  was  speedily  cooked  and  served.  Yes,  and 
eaten  with  that  hearty  appetite  which  the  cowboy 


ON   THE    WAR-PATH  1 43 

abroad  on  the  plains  never  wants.  Then  down  they 
lay,  and,  rolling  themselves  in  ponchos  or  rugs,  were 
soon  fast  asleep. 

Although  given  to  boasting  a  little  at  times,  there 
was  not  a  much  smarter  man  anywhere  about  than 
Whetstone.  He  dearly  loved  activity,  and  his  men 
had  not  slept  over  four  hours  when  he  was  in  their 
midst  once  more. 

"  Roll  out,  boys !  roll  out !  Up  and  away !  We'll 
give  these  rustlers  beans  before  another  sunset." 

They  watered  their  horses  at  a  pond  not  far  on 
along  the  trail.  In  or  near  this  pool  were  the  car- 
casses of  no  less  than  two  fine  horned  cattle  torn 
and  disembowelled  by  the  coyotes.  The  poor  beasts 
seemed  to  have  dropped  dead  even  as  they  stooped 
to  drink. 

"  Well,"  said  Nate,  "  this  j^roves,  anyhow,  that  the 
dog-goned  rustlers  are  putting  a  foot  in  it.  They  are 
goin'  fast  enough  to  bust  any  ordinar'  cattle !  " 

"  We'll  soon  bust  them,"  said  Whetstone,  grimly. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I'm  just  spoilin'  for 
a  fight." 

On  and  on  for  seven  long  miles,  and  just  as  the 
sun  was  illumining  the  clouds  far  away  in  the  east, 
they  halted  near  a  wood  to  breakfast.  Never,  surely, 
had  a  morning  meal  been  more  hardly  earned.  Never, 
certainly,  was  one  done  more  ample  justice  to. 

But  Whetstone  permitted  the  whole  of  his  little 
army  to  have  an  hour  and  a  half's  rest. 

"  We  might  come  up  with  the  blessed  cattle-thieves 


144  <^N  THE   WAR-PATH 

at  any  moment  men,  and  tired  men  don't  have  a  show 
in  a  hand-to-hand  fight. 

"  Look  to  your  guns  now,  lads,"  he  said,  before 
tliey  started.     And  every  one  obeyed. 

"  Nate,  the  ground  is  getting  hilly  and  woody.  I 
don't  like  to  risk  going  too  close  to  those  clumps  of 
trees  all  at  once.     Just  be  the  scout,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Gladly,"  said  Nate,  and,  still  holding  the  dog  in 
front  of  him,  on  he  rode. 

But  no  enemy  appeared  that  day. 

Nate  climbed  a  highish  hill  next  morning,  and, 
to  his  inexpressible  joy,  could  see  far  ahead  of  him, 
and  near  to  a  small  farm,  or  ranch,  a  band  of  rustlers 
hurr3'ing  on  a  herd  of  cattle  in  front  of  them. 

Whether  he  had  been  seen  or  not,  he  could  not 
tell ;  but  all  was  excitement  in  Whetstone's  little 
army  of  fifteen  good -men  and  true,  when  they  saw 
Nate  tearing  back  towards  tliem,  riding  as  only  a  true 
trained  cowboy  can,  and  waving  his  hat  in  the  air. 

"  Coo-ee  !     Coo-ee  !  "  he  was  shouting. 

Every  man  would  have  ridden  at  the  gallop  there 
and  then,  but  Whetstone  was  too  good  a  general  to 
permit  any  such  rashness. 

He  called  a  halt,  and  listened  to  Nate's  report 
with  more  seriousness  than  was  usually  displaj^ed 
by  him. 

"And  you  think  they  must  be  nearly  twenty 
strong  ?  " 

"  I  guess  they're  pretty  near." 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Whetstone,  "  my  own  heart's 


ON  THE   WAE-PATII  1 45 

just  a-boilin'  over,  mid  I'd  like  to  rush  'em ;  but 
we've  got  to  make  sure,  'and  we  can't  be  sure  and 
surtain  atliout  bein'  cautious." 

They  went  on  more  slowly  now,  Nate  going  ahead 
again  to  scout. 

He  had  disappeared  round  a  clump  of  trees,  when 
suddenly  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  rang  out  on  the 
still  air,  followed  by  another ;  and  then  the  scout 
was  seen  riding  back  in  all  haste. 

"  We're  discovered  !  "  he  cried. 

"  Ay,  that  we  are.  I've  winged  the  rustlers*  scout, 
but  he  was  able  to  ride  away." 

"  Yes,  and  if  we're  discivered,"  said  Whetstone, 
musingly,  "they'll  fight  afore  they  go  farther." 

"  That's  so." 

"And  bein'  so,  Nate,  it  strikes  me  we'd  better 
hold  a  council  o'  war." 

This  was  immediately  done. 

Several  of  the  party,  especially  the  warlike  doctor, 
proposed  going  on  at  once,  and  delivering  an  attack 
in  force. 

"Because,"  he  explained,  "they'll  entrench  that 
ranch.  Sure  to.  These  rustlers  are  all  cowards ; 
but  safe  behind  an  embankment,  youll  find  they 
can  fire   finely,  and  fight  till   all  is  blue." 

Wilson  Webb  was  somewhat  of  the  same  opinion, 
but  Nate  and  Whetstone  had  different  ideas,  and 
their  plans  were  carried  when  put  to  the  vote. 

There  was  to  be  no  hurry,  but  plenty  of  caution, 
and  victory  —  Whetstone  said  —  was  certain. 


146  ON  THE   WAR-PATH 

Well,  there  was  still  a  long  day  before  the  men 
of  "  TFe're-all-here,"  so  the  main  trail  was  deserted, 
and  before  two  o'clock  they  had  made  quite  a  detour, 
and  were  prepared  to  descend  upon  the  ranch  from 
the  opposite  side. 

It  was  evident  enough  that  the  rustlers  had  given 
up  all  hopes  of  keeping  the  stolen  cattle,  and  would 
now  bend  all  their  efforts  to  savingp  their  own 
cowardly  skins.  The  cattle  were  allowed  to  roam 
free,  therefore,  and  were  browsing  and  resting 
quietly  after  their  long,  fatiguing  drive. 

The  north  and  east  sides  of  the  ranch  were  not  only 
hilly,  but  covered  with  brush  and  trees,  thus  afford- 
ing excellent  cover  for  the  attacking  party. 

Moreover,  the  rustlers  had  made  one  mistake  to 
begin  with,  and  had  spent  the  whole  forenoon  in 
fortifying  the  south  and  west  aspects  of  the  ranch. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  these  cattle-thieves  had 
made  a  raid  upon  the  range  belonging  to  the  men  of 
"  IFe're-all-here,"  and  so  they  knew  they  had  but 
small  mercy  to  expect. 

They  should,  figuratively  speaking,  be  fighting  with 
halters  round  their  necks,  and  desperate,  indeed,  would 
be  their  resistance. 

^  If  we  could  only  get  them  out  into  the  open," 
said  Nate  to  his  chief,  "small  and  quick  work  we'd 
make  on  'em.  Anyhow,"  he  added,  "  we  can  cut  out 
their  horses." 

They  were  just  outside  and  to  the  north  of  the 
ranch  buildings. 


ON   THE   WAR-PATH  147 

And  they  were  securely  hobbled. 
Well,  there  is  nothing  like  daring ;  so  Nate's  pro- 
posal was  speedily  acted  on  and  a  rush  made.  A 
withering  volley  was  fired  as  they  dashed  on,  and  the 
defenders,  deserting  their  half-built  trenches,  took 
shelter  in  the  log-house  itself,  firing  through  the 
windows. 

A  badly  aimed  volley  or  two,  that  was  all,  and  it 
was  returned  in  force  by  a  rattling,  well-delivered 
fire  that  nothing  could  withstand. 

^leanwhile  some  of  the  boys  were  busy  setting  the 
enemy's  horses  free  and  driving  them  away  to  the 
woods. 

"Come  out,  you  durned  rustlers!"  roared  Whet- 
stone ;  "  and  if  you'll  fight  like  men,  we'll  try  to  give 
ye  fits.  But  if  you  feel  ye  ain't  got  the  grit  in  you, 
lay  down  your  arms  and  I  promise  that  never  a  hair 
in  your  scalps'll  be  raised  till  ye  interview  the  sheriff 
of  'Tr^'re-all-here.' " 

Another  volley  from  a  window  was  the  only 
reply. 

A  bullet  tore  through  the  editor's  best  hat,  and 
one  of  his  men  fell  wounded.  In  the  strong  arms  of 
one  of  his  comrades  he  was  borne  to  the  bush,  and  the 
doctor  followed  to  bind  up  his  wounds. 

Now,  when  Whetstone  had  proposed  great  caution 
in  dealing  with  the  rustlers,  he  had  believed  they 
would  have  thrown  up  a  trench  of  some  sort  on  all 
sides.  But  now,  that  they  had  not,  he  determined 
to  alter  his  tactics  somewhat.     He  could  either  lay 


148  ON   THE    WAR-PATH 

siege  to  the  ranch  and  starve  its  garrison  into  subjec- 
tion, or  he  could  burn  them  out. 

He  chose  the  hitter  phin  after  further  consultation 
with  his  ofHcers  and  men, 

Luckil}^  for  Whetstone's  operations,  there  were  no 
windows  anywhere  save  in  front. 

He  set  his  fellows,  therefore,  to  cut  down  brush- 
wood and  roll  it  down  the  declivity  to  the  back  of 
the  house,  whence  it  could  easily  be  carried  to  the 
front  and  piled  up  against  the  windows. 

The  good  fellows  worked  briskly  and  manfully, 
and  before  sunset  had  made  their  pile. 

But  now  rest  and  food  were  imperative,  and  it 
was  finally  agreed  that  the  main  attack  should  not 
be  made  till  early  morning,  when  the  boys  would  be 
fresh  and  hearty. 

Sentries  were  set,  however,  and  so,  not  knowing 
wliat  a  da}^  or  an  hour  might  bring  forth,  the  cow- 
boys, after  feeding  and  tending  to  their  horses,  lay 
down  and,  rolling  themselves  in  their  blankets,  were 
soon  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   BATTLE  —  LYNCHED    AT   THE   STAKE 
"  Revenge  is  a  kind  of  civil  justice."  —  Bacox. 

Nothing  occurred  to  disturb  the  rest  of  those 
brave  and  weary  men,  and  it  still  wanted  three 
hours  of  the  dawn  when  Whetstone  awoke  them. 
There  was  no  wild  shouting  of  "  roll  out !  roll  out !  " 
The  worthy  editor  simply  stepped  quietly  round,  and 
placed  a  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each. 

And,  thus  awakened,  all  were  soon  aware  that  the 
time  for  action  had  arrived. 

The  camp-fire  was  still  burning,  however;  and 
before  starting  to  work  in  grim  earnest,  coffee  was 
made  and  bread  was  served  out.  The  cowboys  felt 
like  giants  refreshed. 

Then  they  were  led  down  to  the  ranch,  where  the 
piles  of  brushwood  lay. 

When  they  saw  the  very  first  portion  of  the  pile 
tossed  up  against  the  north  window,  the  defenders 
began  to  fear  and  tremble. 

"  Fear  not,  till  Birnam  wood 
Do  come  to  Dunsinane." 

But  here  was  Birnam  wood  coming,  and  that,  too, 
with  a  vengeance,  —  the  vengeance  of   robbed  and 

149 


I50  THE   BATTLE 

wronged  men,  whom  there  was  no  law  to  protect 
except  the  might  that,  in  cases  like  this,  stands  for 
right. 

Several  volleys  were  fired  from  the  now  blocked 
windows,  but,  as  they  did  no  harm,  they  were  not 
even  replied  to. 

The  cowboys'  fire  would  come  soon  enough. 

At  last  the  huge  piles  were  completed.  The  door, 
however,  was  left  free. 

But  fire  was  not  applied  until  broad  daylight. 

There  was  but  little  wind,  but  little  though  it 
was,  it  blew  against  the  front  of  the  house.  So 
luck  was  all  on  the  side  of  the  besietrers. 

Now  came  the  tug  of  war,  and  it  was  evident  to 
all  that  the  "  tulzie  "  would  be  a  terrible  one.  The 
besieged  were  three  times  called  upon  to  surrender, 
and  the  only  answer  was  a  volley  of  firearms  and  a 
volley  of  taunts  and  horrid  imprecations. 

"Fire  the  brush,  now,"  shouted  Whetstone,  "and 
smoke  the  rats  out  o'  thar  tarnation  holes  !  " 

Nate  himself  at  one  window,  and  the  bold  Doc. 
at  the  other,  fired  their  pistols  into  a  bunch  of  dry 
grass  close  to  the  bottom  of  the  piles.  The  flames 
leapt  upwards  in  a  few  little  tongues  of  yellow ;  the 
wind  caught  these,  and  next  minute  the  whole  was 
alight. 

Whetstone  now  drew  off  his  men  a  distance  of 
twenty  yards,  and  from  this  spot  they  could  con- 
centrate their  fire  upon  the  door  and  places  near 
to  it. 


THE   BATTLE  151 

Thougli  rough  and  hardened  as  regards  the  tak- 
ino-  of  human  life,  the  editor  had  a  little  pity  in  his 
heart ;  for  he  once  more,  and  finally,  asked  the  army 
to  capitulate  to  save  useless  bloodshed.     "Never  I  " 

That  was  the  scornful  reply,  and  it  was  the  last 
they  had  a  chance  of  making. 

There  was  the  cracking  of  glass  now,  and  the 
terrible  roaring  of  the  fire  ;  for  the  doomed  ranch  had 
caught  and  would  soon  be  but  a  heap  of  ruins. 

But  now  the  door  is  thrown  suddenly  open  and  a 
withering  volley  is  fired  before  the  rush  is  made. 
Several  of  Whetstone's  men  have  fallen,  but  the 
reply  is  a  fearful  one,  and  that  doorway  is  almost 
immediately  piled  up  with  dead  and  with  the 
Avrithing  bodies  of  the  wounded. 

The  rest  of  the  besieged  men  now  make  a  break 
for  the  wood.  There  lies  their  only  chance  of  safety. 
But  many  are  tumbled  like  rabbits  in  a  pine 
wood,  before  they  reach  the  friendly  shelter,  and 
rushing  on  after  them,  the  cowboys  succeed  in 
making  no  less  than  five  prisoners.  And  one  of 
these  is  the  boss  rustler,  or  captain  himself. 

Beino-  certain  that  nothing  alive  can  now  be  inside 
that  red-hot,  fiery  ranch,  Whetstone  gives  orders  for 
the  prisoners  to  be  securely  made  fast  to  trees,  and 
for  the  wounded  of  the  enemy  to  be  hauled  away 
from  the  doorway,  where  there  was  a  likelihood  of 
their  being  roasted  alive. 

Then  he  turns  his  attention  to  his  own  poor  fel- 
lows, among  whom  the  doctor  is  now  busy  enough. 


152  THE   BATTLE 

But  two  are  already  stone-dead,  one  is  dying,  and 
three  more  are  wounded. 

Among  these  latter  is  Nate  Buster  himself.  A 
bullet  has  passed  right  through  his  shoulder,  severing 
an  important  artery,  which,  however,  the  doctor  has 
managed  to  ligature,  and  thus  his  life  is  saved,  for 
the  time. 

But  see  who  comes  yonder.  Why,  a  mere  lad, 
bareheaded,  bare-legged,  and  wearing  only  a  shirt 
and  pants. 

He  is  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Who  are  you,  my  boy  ?  "  said  Whetstone,  placing 
a  kindly  hand  upon  his  head. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I'm  little  Johnnie  Grant.  Thei'e  was 
only  me  and  fadder  and  niudder  that  lived  in  the 
ranch." 

"  Doctor,  doctor,"  cried  Whetstone,  "  in  the 
bustle  of  battle  we  have  quite  forgotten  the  inmates 
of  the  house.     They  must  have  been  burned  alive." 

"  No,"  said  Johnnie,  "  not  burned  alive.  Poor  ole 
fadder  and  mudder  was  burn'd  dead. 

"  Es,  sirree,  the  rustler  boss  shot  'em  bof  las' 
night.     Oh,  my  pore  ole  fadder  !     Oh,  oh  ! " 

Whetstone  was  an  angry  man  now. 

"  Come  with  me,  lad,  to  the  trees,  and  point  out  to 
me  the  durned  snake  that  slew  your  parents." 

This  the  boy  did. 

"  That's  he,  sir,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  broad- 
shouldered,  daring-looking  man  of  about  thirty. 

The  boy  had  dried  his  eyes,  but  at  sight  of  this 


THE   BATTLE  I  53 

fiend  in  human  form,  he  drew  back  in  terror ;  then 
his  tears  fell  faster  than  ever. 

The  boss  rustler  spat  defiance  at  Whetstone,  as  he 
drew  near. 

"  You  mean,  despicable,  dog-goned  coward ! "  cried 
the  editor.  "  Not  content  with  being  a  thief,  you 
must  stain  your  hands  in  the  blood  of  a  defenceless 
old  man  and  woman  !  Have  you  a  single  word  to  say 
for  yourself?" 

"  No,  and  I  wouldn't  to  you,  if  I  had.  You'll  lynch 
me,  I  know.  But  do  your  dangedest,  I've  only  one 
life  to  lose,  and  it's  yours.  I've  but  one  favour  to  ask 
of  ye.  Let  the  rope  you  hang  me  with  be  a  strong 
one.  I  don't  want  to  trouble  you  trussing  me  up 
twice." 

"  Hang  ye  !  "  cried  Whetstone.  "  Hang  a  blood- 
stained, red-fanged  wolf  like  you  !  You  shall  receive 
no  such  courtesy  at  our  hands.  Listen,  at  one  hour 
before  sunrise  to-morrow  morning,  you  shall  be  burned 
at  the  stake,  and  may  Heaven  have  mercy  on  your 
guilty  soul." 

It  was  evident  the  sentence  was  unexpected. 
The  wretch  was  seen  to  tremble  and  strain  at  his 
ropes,  as  if  he  fain  would  have  burst  them  and 
rushed  on  to  some  death  far  less  terrible. 

Wiietstone  said  nothing  to  the  other  prisoners, 
but,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  walked  away. 

The  charred  remains  of  the  old  man  and  his  wife 
were  found  that  evening,  and  received  decent  burial. 
So  did  the  bodies  of  the  dead  cowboys.     Those  of  the 


154  THE   BATTLE 

enemy  were  to  be  left  to  feed  the  grey  wolves,  the 
ravens,  or  the  coyotes. 

But  their  wounded  received  as  much  attention 
from  the  kindly  Doc.  as  did  his  own. 

There  grew  a  tall,  strong  pine  tree  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  wood,  and  around  this  Whetstone,  a 
short  time  after  sunset,  gave  orders  that  the  rustler 
boss  should  be  made  fast. 

And  this  was  done,  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  relate, 
with  barbed  wire  fencing,  a  coil  of  which  had  been 
found  in  an  outhouse.  Then  a  huge  pile  of  brush- 
wood was  built  around  the  unhappy  man,  and  thus  he 
was  condemned  to  pass  the  night,  in  a  state  of  mental 
and  bodily  agony  that  cannot  be  described. 

This  might  have  been  cowboy  justice,  but  it  is 
terrible,  indeed,  to  think  of.  Just  before  moonrise 
Whetstone,  considerably  mollified,  now  told  the 
doctor  he  might,  if  he  chose,  send  the  murderer  to 
sleep. 

"Not  eternally.  Doc.  Take  care,  for  the  law  must 
run  its  course,  and  the  blood  of  Grant  and  his  wife 
calls  to  Heaven  for  vengeance  !  " 

The  Doc.  took  half  a  bottle  of  old  rye,  poured  into 
it  a  few  drops  of  a  brown  tincture,  and  approaching 
the  tree,  held  it  to  the  man's  lips. 

"  Drink,"  he  said.  "  You  have  much  to  suffer,  soon." 

"A  thousand  thanks  !  "  murmured  the  prisoner. 

Then  he  drank,  and  speedily  his  chin  rested  on  his 
breast.     He  was  sound  asleep. 

Slowly  the  day  began  to  dawn.     Wilson  Webb  had 


THE   BATTLE  I  55 

never  left  poor  Nate's  side.  Nate  had  nursed  him 
once  ;  it  was  his  turn  now. 

Surely  dogs  know  something  about  coming  death  ; 
for  Tweed,  poor  fellow,  was  never  absent  from  the 
very  moment  his  master  fell.  He  seemed  wise  enough 
to  know  that  the  doctor  was  doing  all  he  could  for  his 
patient;  for  he  watched  his  every  movement,  and 
licked  his  red  hands,  and  fawned  upon  him  when  he 
had  finished. 

But  he  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  touch  food, 
although  he  lapped  water  readily  enough. 

The  day  was  dawning,  and  it  was  very  still.  Not 
a  breath  of  wind  rustled  through  the  grass  or  moaned 
amono-  the  trees.  But  there  had  been  a  slig-ht  air  of 
frost,  and  the  bushes  were  white  with  rime. 

Who  dare  say  that  the  murderer  did  not  richly 
deserve  his  fate?  Nevertheless,  it  was,  indeed,  a 
terrible  one.  Nor  do  I  mean  to  sully  my  pages  with 
complete  details  of  the  tragedy. 

The  potion  that  the  doctor  had  administered  the 
evening  before,  kept  the  wretched  man  asleep  till 
within  about  two  hours  of  his  execution.  Then  he 
awoke,  while  the  stars  were  still  shining ;  awoke  cold, 
shivering,  and  in  pain  —  for  he  dared  not  move,  lest 
those  barbed  wires  should  cut  into  his  skin. 

He  tried  to  be  brave,  but  his  courage  seemed  utterl}' 
to  have  failed  him. 

Just  once  durino-  those  lonsf  hours,  the  lonsrest  ever 
he  had  passed  in  life,  did  he  speak.  It  was  to  his 
guards. 


156  THE   BATTLE 

"  Men,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the  time  ?  " 

They  told  him. 

He  groaned,  but  continued  as  follows  :  "  I  have  an 
old  mother  in  Colorado.  The  prisoners  you  have 
secured  will  give  you  the  address.  I  was  her  favour- 
ite boy.  Yes,  blood-stained  wretch  though  I  now 
am,  I  had  and  have  a  mother's  love.  My  dying  wish 
is  that  you  write  to  her,  but  tell  her  not  how  I  died. 
Say  only  I  took  my  death  like  a  man,  and  that  my 
last  thoughts  were  about  her." 

Before  the  terrible  lire  was  lit,  he  was  offered 
another  drink.     He  shook  his  head  and  refused  it. 

Then  he  must,  I  think,  have  gone  suddenly  mad ; 
for  he  began  to  sing  Northern  songs  of  the  great 
struggle  'twixt  Federals  and  Confederates,  and  even 
when  tongues  of  flame  were  leaping  like  fiery  snakes 
up  around  him,  and  encircling  his  limbs,  he  continued 
to  sing. 

The  scene  was  awful,  beyond  the  power  of  pen  or 
pencil  to  depict. 

Just  one  terrible  yell  of  pain  did  lie  utter  as  the 
fire  grew  hotter  and  mounted  still  higher. 

Wilson  Webb  had  fled. 

The  sight  was  more  than  he  could  look  upon. 

But  just  a  minute  or  two  after  he  had  gone,  while 
the  doomed  man,  with  black,  swollen  face,  and  starting 
eyes,  was  writhing  in  mortal  agony,  the  crack  of  a  rifle 
was  heard,  followed  instantaneously  by  a  sound  like 
that  which  we  hear  when  a  bullet  hits  a  far-off  target. 
A  spot  of  blood  appeared  on  the  murderer's  brow. 


THE   BATTLE  157 

Then  clown  dropped  the  head  and  chin  —  he  had 
gone  to  his  account ! 

When  the  Doc.  and  Whetstone  looked  toward  the 
trench,  they  could  perceive  a  round,  Avhite  ball  of 
smoke  melting  away  to  leeward  in  the  cool,  morning 
air. 

But  the  fire  was  kept  up  until  the  body  was  but  a 
blackened  scroll,  and  till  bone  after  bone  dropped 
from  the  fiery  tree. 

Tlien  the  tree  itself  bent  and  bent,  till  it  suddenly 
fell  with  a  crash,  and  all  was  o'er. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

"TWEED,    TOO,    WAS   DEAD  " 

"  Fidelity  that  neither  bribe  nor  threat 
Can  move  or  warp,  and  gratitude  for  small 
And  trivial  favours,  lasting  as  life 
And  glistening  even  in  the  dying  eye." 

—  The  Dog. 

A  WHOLE  month  had  passed  away. 

The  beef  round-up  was  over,  and  the  far-off  mar- 
kets had  swallowed  up  the  beeves,  to  the  no  small 
profit  of  the  hardy  ownei'S. 

But  neither  Wilson  Webb  nor  poor  Nate  Buster 
had  taken  any  part  in  that  round-up  ;  for  Nate  was  far 
too  ill,  and  his  friend  had  stayed  at  home  to  nurse 
him. 

He  was  the  only  patient  the  good  Doc.  had,  and 
nursing,  Jie  told  Wilson,  was  all  he  needed. 

"  And  will  he  ever  get  well,  Doc.  ?  " 

This  question  was  not  asked  in  the  presence  of  the 
languid  and  prostrate  Nate.  Wilson  knew  better 
than  to  make  any  such  mistake. 

The  doctor  had  shaken  his  head  sadly  enough. 

"  I'm  going  away  to  the  round-up,"  he  said ;  "  but 
I  shall  see  Nate  alive  — never  again. 

"  You  must  know,  Wilson,  that  Nate's  long  career 
158 


"TWEED,    TOO,   WAS   DEAD"  159 

of  iutenipeiance  lias  weakened  his  heart  and  thinned 
his  blood.  I  only  wonder  he  has  lived  so  long  as  he 
has." 

Wilson  Webb  had  come  to  regard  this  once  wild 
and  reckless  fellow,  with  feelings  of  almost  brotherly 
affection. 

And  honest  Tweed's  regard  for  his  dying  master 
knew  no  bounds.^  It  was  trnly  wonderful.  He  had 
taken  to  eating  again,  it  is  true,  but  his  anxiety  to 
be  back  by  his  master's  side  used  to  make  him  hurry 
through  his  meal,  and  often  leave  the  greater  part  of 
it  in  the  dish.  The  dear  dog  used  to  begrudge  him- 
self even  a  few  minutes'  exercise  out  of  doors.  Wil- 
son would  take  him  out  twice  a  day,  but  Tweed  went 
hurrying  on,  and  if  any  other  of  his  species  came  up, 
as  in  the  happy  days  of  yore,  to  make  friends  with 
him,  he  would  pass  them  almost  without  recognition, 
or  he  would  look  at  them  sadly,  and  seem  to  say :  — 

"  I  am  in  grief,  great  grief.  Poor  master  is  dying, 
and  I  will  never,  never  get  another  kind  friend  like 
him." 

As  soon  as  the  walk  was  at  an  end,  and  Wilson 
Webb  turned  to  go  back,  Tweed  started  off  at  a  rac- 
ing speed,  and  was  home  long  before  him,  up  on  to 
his  master's  bed,  safe  in  his  master's  arms. 

Some  who  read  these  lines  may  think  that  instances 
of  affection  in  the  dog,  like  that  which  I  am  so  feebly 
depicting,  are  rare.     They  are  not,  indeed. 

I  say  this,  and  T  who  say  it  know  it,  that  if  there 
1  Sketclied  from  the  life. 


l6o  "TWEED,   TOO,    WAS   DEAD" 

be  a  God  in  heaven,  and  that  God  has  given  to  man 
an  animal  to  be  his  true  and  loving  companion  and 
faithful  unto  death,  that  animal  is  the  dog ;  and  one 
has  only  to  understand  him  and  to  love  him  to  be 
beloved  again  with  a  wealth  of  affection  such  as 
exists  in  the  heart  of  no  other  creature  here  below. 

My  eyes  are  overflowing  with  tears  as  I  write,  and 
the  lines  before  me  are  all  a-blur,  but  they  are  tears 
that  I  am  not  one  little  bit  ashamed  of ! 

***** 

Poor  Nate  Buster  was  a  good  patient,  a  very  quiet 
and  gentle  one.  I  think  he  knew  as  well  as  Wilson 
did  that  the  end  was  just  a  measurable  distance  away. 
Yet  he  never  complained,  and  was  thankful  for  every 
little  favour  that  was  done  him. 

The  weather  was  still  warm,  and  it  was  his  chief 
delight  during  the  day  to  be  assisted  out  to  the 
verandah  of  the  house  where  he  resided.  Here  was 
a  broad  bench,  where  cushions  were  placed,  and  on 
which  he  liked  to  lie. 

It  faced  the  west  —  faced  the  everlasting  hills. 
Their  serrated  summits  were  alread}^  covered  with 
snow,  and  yet,  as  he  told  Wilson,  they  looked  so  calm 
and  peaceful;  then,  when  lit  up  with  the  crimson 
and  blue  of  sunset,  with  the  ever-changing  clouds 
above,  they  seemed  to  waft  his  thoughts  away  and 
away  to  that  brighter  and  better  land  to  which  he 
felt  and  knew  he  was  moving.  "  Some  day,"  he  said 
to  Wilson  —  "  some  day  I  will  tell  you  my  story  ;  for 
I  have  a  mother  and  a  sister  both,  and  wild  though  I 


"TWEED,   TOO,    \VAS   DEAD"  l6l 

have  been,  I  have  never  forgotten  either.     Some  day 
- —  some  day  !  " 

Ah  I  but  that  some  day  never  came.  On  the  still, 
bright  evenings,  as  the  sun  was  slowly  sinking  behind 
the  snowy  sierras,  Wilson  used  to  play  to  him  beauti- 
ful selections  and  pathetic  from  the  masters.  He 
would  place  the  mute  on  the  violin  bridge,  so  that 
the  music  was  lower,  softer,  and  sweeter. 

One  night  after  he  had  finished  playing  a  beautiful 
impromptu,  a  kind  of  lullaby,  he  happened  to  glance 
at  Nate. 

He  seemed  peacefully  asleep,  with  one  arm  over 
Tweed's  shoulders,  his  brown,  thin  fingers  buried 
in  his  mane.  And  the  same  red  glow  that  crimsoned 
clouds  and  hills  lit  up  his  face. 

"  He  sleeps/'  said  Wilson,  softly,  "  and  poor  Tweed 
is  sleeping  also ;  I  will  not  disturb  them  !  "  so  on  tip- 
toe he  stole  away. 

Something  occurred  to  take  the  young  man  away 
for  fully  an  hour,  but  he  then  hurried  back  to  his 
patient.     He  had  not  moved. 

Here  I  pause,  reader,  because  you  can  guess  what 
is  coming,  and  I  am  not  the  man  to  try  to  sketch 
romantic  death-bed  scenes.  I  have  seen  far  too 
many  of  them  during  my  checkered  career. 

That  sleep  of  Nate's  was  his  last  long  one.  Well, 
perhaps  some  may  think  it  strange,  /  do  not,  but 
Tweed.,  too^  tvas  dead. 

They  buried  Nate  Buster  in  a  little  valley  beside 
a  spring ;  a  valley  which,  save  in  winter,  was  nearly 


M 


l62  "TWEED,    TOO,    WAS   DEAD" 

always  green ;  a  valley  in  which  the  willows  grew 
boiinie,  waving  silvery  buds  in  the  breeze  long,  long 
before  summer  came. 

And  Twped  was  buried  by  his  side. 

Little  Lizzie,  the  landlord's  daughter,  always 
placed  flowers  on  those  graves,  wlienever  she  could 
find  them,  for  Nate  and  Tweed  had  been  her  friends. 

Says  Pope  in  his  "  Essay  on  Man  "  :  — 

"  Lo!  the  poor  Indian,  whose  untutored  mind 
Sees  God  in  clouds,  or  hears  him  in  the  wind ; 
His  soul,  proud  Science  never  taught  to  stray, 
Far  as  the  solar  walk  or  milky  way, 
But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky. 
His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company." 

And  why  should  he  not  ?  I  ask. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

hurrah!  for  the  land  of  gold 

"  Hope,  like  the  gleaming  taper's  light, 
Adorns  and  cheers  the  way 
And  still,  as  darker  grows  the  night, 
Emits  a  brighter  ray."  —  Goldsmith. 

Wilson  Webb  stayed  on  among  the  cowboys  all 
throughout  the  next  winter. 

This  sort  of  life  had  a  strange  fascination  for  the 
young  man ;  and  he  loved  the  snow  time  almost  as 
much  as  he  loved  the  summer.  He  was  constantly 
wandering  about  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder  and 
his  camera  by  his  side,  and  he  got  plenty  of  sport 
among  the  wolves,  coyotes,  and  winter  wild  fowl. 
But  more  than  once  he  had  narrowly  escaped  with 
his  life  from  being  caught  in  whirling,  choking  snow- 
blizzards. 

He  was  studying  snow  scenes  anyhow  for  his 
forthcoming  lectures,  and  many  of  the  pictures  he 
obtained  were  most  effective,  delicate,  and  beautiful. 

Nor  were  these  winter  wanderings  of  his  free  from 
wild  adventure.  Once,  for  instance,  he  was  attacked 
by  three  hungry  grey  wolves.  After  shooting  one 
dead  with  his  revolver,  he  got  his  back  against  a  rock 
and  fought  the  other  two  with  his  bowie-knife. 

163 


164     HURRAH!  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  GOLD 

He  got  the  three  skins,  then  made  all  haste  home- 
wards. And  he  had  left  the  blood-stained  snow  none 
too  soon,  for  when  only  about  a  hundred  yards  away 
he  heard  the  howling  of  the  main  fack. 

They  had  come  to  bury  their  brothers  by  devour- 
ing them,  and  had  not  Wilson  got  away  in  time,  he, 
too,  would  have  been  buried  in  the  same  simple 
fashion. 

Just  one  bear  adventure  I  must  mention  because 
there  was  a  comical  element  in  it,  although  most 
certainly  Wilson  saw  no  fun  about  it,  at  the  time. 

While  up  high  among  the  foot-hills  one  beautiful 
day,  the  sky  to  the  eastward  became  suddenly  black 
and  overcast,  and  a  blizzard  of  more  than  usual 
violence  swept  over  the  plains.  The  city  of  '■'■We've- 
all-liere,"'  which  but  an  hour  ago  he  had  been  ad- 
miring, so  picturesque  did  it  appear,  asleep  in  the 
sunlight,  was  suddenly  engulfed  in  clouds  of  whirl- 
ing drift. 

Now  to  be  caught  in  such  a  fearful  storm  meant 
suffocation  and  death,  and  right  well  did  Wilson 
know  this.  Glad  enough  was  he,  therefore,  when 
he  found  himself  close  to  the  entrance  of  a  rocky 
cave. 

He  crept  in  at  once.  It  was  very  dark  and  far 
from  comfortable,  but  —  aily  port  in  a  storm. 

The  cold  was  soon  so  intense,  that  he  was  glad  to 
gather  the  folds  of  his  blanket  around  him  and  crouch 
in  a  corner. 

But  here  was  a  mystery.    He  found  himself  sitting 


NOW    WAS    HIS   TIME,    HE   THOUGHT,    TO    MAKE    A    BOLT    FOR    FREEDOM. 


HURKAH  !    FOR   THE   LAND   OF   GOLD  1 65 

on  something  soft  —  and  wonderful   to  relate,  that 
something  was  warm. 

The  truth  is  he  was  in  a  grizzly's  cave,  and  quietly 
sitting  on  the  proprietor. 

The  proprietor,  however,  was  very  sound  asleep, 
and  there  was  but  little  cliance  of  his  awakening. 
But  poor  terror-stricken  Wilson  was  kept  moving 
up  and  down,  like  a  ship  in  the  doldrums,  on  the 
heaving  sides  of  the  monster. 

For  a  time  he  felt  like  one  in  a  dreadful  nightmare, 
and  could  not  have  changed  his  position  to  save  his 
life. 

So  he  just  breathed  a  prayer,  and  sat  still.  He 
could  never  have  told  any  one  how  long  he  did  sit 
there. 

"  A  thousand  years ! "'  he  told  the  doctor,  though 
this  was  probably  a  slight  exaggeration. 

But  all  the  time  the  wind  Avithout  roared  and 
howled,  as  only  blizzard  winds  among  the  Rockies  can. 

Gradually,  however,  it  died,  and  died  away,  and 
soon  after  not  only  was  it  calm,  but  he  could  see  a 
streak  of  sunshine  straggling  in  at  the  mouth  of  the 
cave. 

Now  was  his  time,  he  thought,  to  make  a  bolt  for 
freedom.  Well,  though  the  bear  had  kept  his  body 
warm,  all  below  the  knees  seemed  paralysed.  Would 
they  cany  him  ?  If  they  did  not,  he  would  fall  and 
the  noise  would  waken  Bruin.  Oh,  horrible  thought ! 
He  fancied  he  heard  the  crunching  of  his  bones,  in  the 
jaws  of  the  awful  beast. 


l66  IIUKKAH  !    FOR   THE    LAND   OF   GOLD 

Well,  fear  lends  us  wings ;  and  presently,  when, 
though  still  asleep,  that  great  grizzly  bear  stretched 
out  his  paws  and  uttered  a  sound,  partly  groan  and 
partly  yawn,  that  appeared  to  shake  the  cave,  Wil- 
son sprang  to  his  feet  and  made  a  wild  dash  for  the 
mouth  of  the  cav^e,  paralysed  legs  and  all. 

Out  he  flew,  and  down  he  flew.  Down  the  hill 
running,  leaping,  vaulting.  Nor  did  he  slacken  speed 
until  he  placed  a  good  long  mile  'twixt  himself  and 
the  cave  of  that  sleeping  beauty.  "  I've  never  had 
such  a  terrible  adventure  in  my  life  before,"  he  told 
the  boys  at  the  bar  that  night,  "  and  don't  want 
to  be  in  a  bear's  bedroom  never,  never,  never  any 
more." 

He  looked  very  serious,  but  this  only  made  the 
boys  laugh  all  the  louder,  and  little  Lizzie  herself 
joined  the  chorus. 

"  Well,  lads,"  he  told  them  a  few  months  after 
this,  as  he  put  away  his  fiddle,  "the  place  that  now 
knows  me  must  soon  know  me  no  more.  I'm  going 
home  to  get  married  to  the  dearest,  sweetest  lass  on 
earth." 

"  Hurrah  !     And  every  good  luck  attend  ye  !  " 

"  We'll  miss  you,  Wilson,"  said  the  editor,  "  and 
we'll  miss  your  fiddle ;  mind  that,  sirree." 

»  Well,  boys,"  said  Wilson,  "  I  must  say  this :  I'll 
often  think  of  you  all  and  the  two  years'  wild,  but 
pleasant,  life  I've  led  among  you." 

"  Shake,  Wilson,  shake ! "  cried  more  than  one  good- 


HURRAH!    FOR   THE   LAKD   OF   GOLD  1 6/ 

hearted  fellow;  "you  are  true  blue,  Breetisher  though 
you  be." 

"Shake,  Wilson,  shake!  I  endorses  the  sentiment." 

The  Doc.  walked  home  with  Wilson  that  night,  and 
Wilson  gave  him  the  easy-chair  and  one  of  his  very 
last  cigars. 

The  Doc.  lit  up,  then  he  nodded  over  at  his  friend. 

"I'm  off  too." 

"What,  ^oit.?" 

"  I  am.  You  thought  I  was  settled  here  for  life. 
But  Fm  not.  I'm  only  five  and  thirty,  and  I  want  to 
make  a  bit  o'  money  because  there's  a  little  girl  in 
'Frisco,  and  we  both  want  to  get  hitched. 

"  Well,"  he  added,  "  I'm  selling  my  practice.  Fact 
is,  it  is  sold.  I  had  this  advertisement  in  the  Neivs- 
Letter  for  a  month  and  that  kind  o'  fetched  my 
successor." 

He  handed  the  newspaper  across  the  table,  and 
Wilson  read  as  follows  :  — 

"  Splendid  INIedical  Practice  for  sale !     In   a  rapidly  rising 

city  in  iSI County.     Close  to  the  foot-hills.      Liberal  fees 

from  the  cowboys.  Only  a  young  man  need  apply.  Must  have 
the  grit  in  him.  Must  ride  well  and  shoot  well,  be  pleasant- 
tempered  and  temperate,  and  alile  to  take  his  own  part  and  his 
place  also  in  a  '  round-up.'  Splendid  sport !  Bears,  grey 
wolves,  pumas,  coyotes,  wild  fowl,  and  fish,  with  now  and  then 
a  rustler  or  a  red  Indian.  Two  thousand  dollars  clinches  the 
bargain.  Present  Doc.  leaving  oidy  'cause  he  wants  to  get 
hitched." 

"  So  you're  going  to  San  Francisco  ?  " 
"  Tliat  I  am,  and  so  are  you." 


1 68     HURRAH!  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  GOLD 

»  Me  ?  "  said  Wilson. 

"  Yes.  You're  coming  right  along  to  give  your 
lectures  there,  and  see  me  hitched." 

"Well,  'pon  honour,  I  don't  mind,  but  I  really 
should  go  home.  My  poor  girl  is  longing  to  see 
me." 

"  Hush  !  You  are  not  going  back  for  another  year, 
at  least.  You  have  told  me  that  3^our  sweetheart  is 
hardly  out  of  her  teens,  and  that  you  haven't  too 
much  money.  But,  lad,  I'm  going  to  make  you  rich, 
and  —  get  rich  myself  at  the  same  time." 

"Inasmuch  as  to  how?  Give  us  the  'whys'  and 
the  '  wherefores,'  Doc." 

"  Ever  hear  of  the  gold-fields  of  Klondyke  ?  " 

"  Just  a  rumour ;  all  nonsense,  I  daresay." 

"  And  /  daresay  it  isn't. 

"Now,  you've  got  sand  in  you.  You're  go-ahead 
and  plucky  and  just  about  as  hardy  as  they  turn  'em 
out  nowadays,  and  so  I  say  let  your  cry  and  mine 
both  be  :  Hurrah  for  Klondyke  !  " 

"  I'll  dream  about  it,"  said  Wilson,  smiling.  "  Tni 
not  rich,  and  I  must  confess  that  for  Madeleine's  sake 
I'd  dearly  like  to  be." 

And  so  they  parted  for  the  night.  Dr.  Debrett  was 
a  man  of  method,  but  a  man  of  bright  action  as  well, 
and  when  he  made  up  his  mind  to  do  anything  he 
deemed  worth  doing,  he  wasn't  the  individual  to  let 
the  grass  grow  up  between  his  toes. 

Wilson  Webb's  lectures  were  quite  as  great  a 
success   at   San    Francisco    as    they  were   anywhere 


HURRAH  !  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  GOLD     1 69 

else,  but  he  had  now  taken  the  gold  fever,  and  to 
Alaska  he  must  go. 

He  wrote  long  letters  home.  Letters  to  Peters 
and  his  sister ;  over  these  poor  Madeleine  cried  a 
little,  but  she  kissed  them  over  and  over  again,  before 
she  put  them  carefully  away  in  her  little  desk.  "  It 
is  all  for  your  sake,  darling,"  one  portion  of  Wilson's 
letter  ran,  "  that  I  wish  to  make  my  pile  of  gold.  If 
all  accounts  be  true,  it  will  not  take  ver}^  long,  and 
then  —  Oh,  you  know  what  will  follow,  and  how 
quickly  I  shall  hurry  home  to  love  and  thee  !  " 

Letters  to  Laurie  and  Leebie  Lea,  and  a  long  letter 
to  Ernest  Elliot.  These  letters  quite  fired  the  blood 
of  those  young  fellows.  They  were  sixteen  years  of 
age  now,  remember. 

"  I  say,  Laurie,"  said  Ernie,  "  if  I  had  cash,  I'd  start 
off  for  Klondyke  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  And  so  would  I !  "  cried  Laurie. 

"  Oh,  Ernie ! "  exclaimed  romantic  little  Leebie, 
who  was  quite  as  beautiful  as  ever,  —  more  so,  in 
fact,  in  Ernest's  eyes.  "  Oh,  Ernie,  I  would  go  to- 
night ! " 

And  the  two  dogs  went  careering  round  and  round 
the  cave,  barking  till  the  rocks  rang. 

But  we  must  leave  these  folks  for  a  time,  and 
follow  the  fortunes  of  Dr.  Debrett  and  his  bride. 

She  would  not  be  left  behind.  Other  women,  she 
said,  had  gone  out  to  Klondyke,  and  why  not  she  ? 
And  so  she  had  her  wa}^  as  the  wilful  generally  do, 
esx^ecially  if  the  wilful  one  is  a  woman. 


I/O  HURRAH!    FOR   TPIE   LAND   OF   GOLD 

She  was  a  dark-e3'ed  little  girl,  —  well,  woman 
now,  of  course,  —  very  piquant  and  pretty,  and  with 
any  amount  of  life  in  her.  In  fact,  she  was  just 
suited  to  be  the  companion  of  a  dashing,  dare-all  man 
like  the  Doc. 

***** 

It  took  two  weeks  to  get  everything  ready  for  the 
voyage  towards  the  pole. 

They  were  to  sail  in  the  end  of  ]Ma\-  in  one  of  a 
certain  company's  steamers.  The  Hopeful,  as  she 
was  called,  was  by  no  means  a  very  large  boat,  and 
was  of  American  build  fore  and  aft,  on  deck  and  down 
below. 

She  really  seemed  to  have  too  much  top-hamper  to 
please  a  British  sailor,  who  never  feels  quite  safe  un- 
less the  principal  weight  is  all  below. 

But  the  Ropeful  was  comfortable,  for  all  that,  and 
very  well  found,  too,  and  the  doctor  and  Wilson 
acted  well  and  wisely  by  paying  for  provisions  enough 
to  last  them  for  a  wliole  3-ear  after  they  should  step 
on  shore  in  tlie  land  of  gold. 

Well,  on  board  the  Hopeful  there  was  no  great 
crowd  of  passengers.  Perhaps  she  was  a  trifle  too 
small  to  suit  a  Yankee's  ideas  of  comfort.  Xeverthe- 
less,  among  the  saloon  passengers  were  some  very 
pleasant  people  indeed,  so  that  from  the  \e\-j  first 
Mrs.  Dr.  Debrett  did  not  feel  much  from  home. 
One,  curiously  enough,  was  a  white-haired  old  gentle- 
man of  nearly  seventy,  and  his  wife,  a  kindly-faced 
woman  who  took  a  o-reat  interest  in  the  Doc.  and  his 


HURRAH!  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  GOLD     ijl 

wife.  Both  were  hale  and  liearty,  and  the  hidy  did 
not  make  up,  nor  try  to  hide  her  age  a  single  bit. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  she  told  Mrs.  Debrett  one  morning 
at  breakfast,  "you  and  your  husband  are  just  enter- 
ing on  your  voyage  of  life,  but  me  and  my  old  man'll 
soon  be  getting  into  harbour. 

"  You  may  wonder,  sir,"  she  continued,  addressing 
the  Doc.,  "what  brings  an  old  couple  like  us  here. 
Well,  I'll  tell  you,  and  it's  niebbe  not  much  credit  to 
us.  It  is  just  pride,  sir,  and  nothing  else.  We  come 
from  Chicago,  and  there  we  once  were  rich,  but 
hubbie,  he  got  into  a  boom  ;  the  boom  turned  out  to 
be  a  bubble ;  the  bubble  burst,  and  we  lost  pretty 
near  all.  Well,  hubbie  is  still  as  strong  as  a  horse, 
and  has  a  heart  like  a  lion.  He  is  as  likely  as  not  to 
live  for  twenty  years  yet.  But  he  couldn't  stand 
people  in  Chicago  that  were  once,  as  far  as  the  world 
goes,  low  down  on  the  ladder  of  life,  turning  up  their 
noses  at  us  'cause  we  had  come  down  a  bit. 

"So  one  morning,  'Margaret,'  says  he,  'I'm  off 
to  Klondyke.     Will  ye  go  ?  ' 

" '  Haven't  I  always  gone  everywhere  with  you, 
John  ? '  says  I.  So  off  we  started  just  a  year  and  a 
half  ago." 

"  What  I "  cried  the  Doc,  "  have  you  been  out 
before?" 

"  That  have  we,  and  made  a  pile  too ;  and  we're 
going  back,  as  you  see,  to  make  another." 

"And  does  your  husband  dig?" 

"That  he  does.     But   vounir  John — and  that   is 


T72     HURRAH!  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  GOLD 

our  son  and  our  only  chick  or  child  —  docs  mostly  all 
the  hard  work.     Don't  yon,  yonng  John?" 

Young  John  sat  right  opposite,  giving  all  his 
attention  to  a  rump-steak. 

A  sturdy,  broad-shouldered  fellow,  mild-mannered 
withal,  but  just  one's  beau-ideal  of  what  a  Klondyke 
miner  ought  to  be. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  he  replied ;  "  but  what  was  it 
I  did  do,  mother?" 

"And  how  do  you  like  Klondyke?"  asked  Wilson. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  young  John,  "bar  the  dod- 
rotting  skeeters." 

"Should  have  thought  it  was  too  cold  for  them 
up  there,"  said  Wilson  Webb. 

"  Cold,  sir !  Well,  mebbe  when  they  go  to  sleep 
they  have  a  bottle  o'  hot  water  at  their  feet.  I  don't 
know ;  only  our  American  skeeters  ain't  fit  to  hold 
a  candle  to  them.  They'll  come  down  to  meet  us  at 
the  mouth  o'  the  river,  and  welcome  us  all  the  way 
up ;  and  if  we  land  on  some  of  the  islands  there 
about  sunset,  you've  got  to  cut  your  way  right 
through  them,  with  the  paddle  of  the  punt.  An- 
other chop,  steward." 

The  ship's  course  was  about  at  north-northwest,  and 
the  weather  was  not  only  fine,  but  really  beautiful. 
Father  Neptune  was  kindly  disposed  towards  every 
one.  There  really  was  no  seaway  to  speak  of ;  only 
light,  merr}^  wee  waves  that  sparkled  in  the  sun- 
shine, and,  driven  along  before  a  gentle  breeze,  made 
the  ocean  all  around  look  like  a  mighty  Missouri. 


HURRAH  !  von   THE  LAND  OF  GOLD     173 

Well,  the  Yankees  do  believe  in  good  food,  any- 
how, and  in  plenty  of  it,  and  it  did  seem  to  Wilson 
Webb  that  the  stewards  had  no  sooner  cleared  away 
one  meal  than  they  began  to  lay  for  another. 

There  was  a  fairly  good  piano  here.  The  doctor's 
wife  sang  and  [)layed ;  the  first  mate  had  a  beautiful 
voice,  and  so,  with  the  addition  of  Wilson's  Stradi- 
varius,  most  delightful  musical  evenings  were  spent. 

As  for  the  skipper  himself,  and  most  of  the  men 
passengers,  though  they  liked  to  hear  the  music,  it 
did  not  prevent  them  from  playing  poker  of  an  even- 
ing, or  whist  itself,  although  this  was  not  so  great 
a  favourite. 

But  much  to  the  amusement  of  everybody,  the  old 
Klondyke  miner  and  his  wife  settled  down  every 
night,  as  regularly  as  the  tides,  to  a  humble  game 
of  bezique,  for  six-penny  points.  This  lonesome 
game  they  had  plaj-ed  together  all  their  lives,  and 
they  saw  no  good  and  sufficient  reason  why  they 
should  chancre  it  now. 

The  skipper  was  a  thorough  Yankee,  —  at  heart, 
anj^how,  —  by  no  means  handsome,  but  affable  and 
always  smiling.  He  tried  to  do  all  he  could  to 
please   everybody,  and,  truth  to  tell,  he  succeeded. 

Well,  the  Hopeful  was  bound  for  St.  Michaels, 
which,  a  glance  at  the  map  will  show  you,  lies  some 
distance  north  of  the  mouth,  or  rather  the  many 
mouths,  of  the  great  Yukon.  In  so  long  a  voyage  as 
this,  no  one  could  hope  that  it  would  be  all  fine 
weather. 


174     HURRAH!  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  GOLD 

Nor  was  it.  The  Hojjefid  was  no  racer  even  with 
a  fair  wind,  but  when  it  commenced  to  blow  what  the 
first  mate  called  "  a  regular  sneezer  "  right  in  her 
teeth,  the  good  ship  did  not  half  like  it,  and  she  made 
such  labouring,  heavy  weather  that  the  ladies,  and 
most  of  the  gentlemen  also,  were  fain  to  stop  below. 

The  great  seas  went  fizzing  and  singing  past  the 
ship,  threatening  and  vowing  vengeance  on  all  on 
board.  Sometimes  a  heavier  wave  than  usual  would 
hit  the  Hopeful  on  the  bows  with  a  sickening  thud, 
that  made  her  quiver  from  stem  to  stern  for  a  time, 
and,  despite  her  powerful  engines,  actually  stop  dead 
for  a  second  or  two. 

But  soon  the  good  ship  forged  ahead  once  more, 
presently,  perhaps,  loading  up  as  it  were  with  a  great 
green  sea  that  she  took  in  over  her  fo'c's'le,  —  a  sea 
that  went  rearinef  and  surg'insr  and  foamino'  aft  aloncf 
the  decks  like  the  bore  that  rushes  down  a  Highland 
river,  after  a  thunder-squall  among  the  mountains. 
And  with  terrible  force,  too,  flooding  the  deck-houses, 
flooding  everything,  and  carrying  with  it  beef  kids, 
capstan  bars,  legs  of  mutton  or  pork,  or  anything 
loose  it  found  in  its  way. 

But  the  saloon  companion  had  been  battened  down, 
so  the  sea  had  to  steer  clear  of  this. 

The  Hopeful  was  stronger  perhaps  than  she  really 
looked,  and  seemed  to  lose  her  temper  when  boarded 
thus  by  green  seas.  She  would  rise  to  the  occasion 
literally  and  figuratively,  and  soon  shake  herself  clear 
of  the  superabundant  water. 


IIUKKAIl!     FOR   THE   LAND   OF   GOLD  1 75 

But  tins  storm  lasted  but  a  day  and  a  night. 
Then  in  the  morning  the  sunniier  sun  shone  bright 
and  pleasantly  once  again  over  a  sunnner  sea ;  the 
decks  were  drj^,  and  all  the  whiter  apparently  for 
their  drenching. 

A  few  slight  repairs  had  to  be  made,  for,  forward, 
the  bulwarks  had  been  considerably  smashed.  After 
this,  things  went  as  merrily  as  marriage  bells. 

The  wind  had  gone  right  round  to  the  southward 
and  east ;  fires  were  banked,  sails  were  set,  and  even 
stunsails  low  and  aloft.  It  must  be  stated  that  this 
was  no  ordinary  steam  tub,  but  a  ship,  with  steam  as 
an  auxiliary  power. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE   VOYAGE   OF   THE    HOPEFUL 

"  O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea, 
Our  thoughts  as  boundless,  and  our  souls  as  free." 

—  Bykon. 

As  the  ship  got  more  to  the  northward,  the  weather 
became  sensibly  cooler ;  but  this  only  in  comparison 
with  the  fiery  south.  The  sun  was  still  strong;  the 
sea,  like  the  sky,  was  blue ;  and  so  the  forenoons, 
spent  on  the  quarter-deck,  over  which  an  awning  was 
always  spread,  when  it  could  be  carried,  were  pleas- 
ant enough. 

There  were  books  to  read  and  yarns  to  be  spun 
by  those  who  had  been  much  to  sea,  or  up  Klondyke 
way,  before. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  fill  whole  chapters 
with  the  strange  stories  that  the  first  mate  told. 
Perhaps  they  bordered  on  the  fictitious  and  roman- 
tic, but  I  do  not  think  they  were  really  much  the 
worse  on  that  account. 

Then  there  were  the  experiences  of  old  John 
and  young  John  to  be  related,  and  these  were  very 
quaintly  told,  and  every  bit  as  true  as  Johnson's 
Dictionary. 

176 


TlIK    VOYAGE   OF   THE    HOPEFUL  177 

As  they  approached  the  Aleutian  Islands,  the  ship 
became  enveloped  in  dense,  white  fogs.  Hardly  a 
breath  of  wind  blew  now,  3^et  the  seas  were  high, 
smooth,  and  rolling  almost  like  the  doldrums  one 
falls  in  witli  while  crossing  the  line. 

These  doldrums  are  far,  indeed,  from  pleasant,  no 
matter  where  you  meet  them.  Sea-legs  are  exceed- 
ingly serviceable,  and  Avill  hold  you  erect  while  you 
walk,  even  in  half  a  gale  of  wind.  But  sea-legs  are  of 
little  use  in  the  doldrums.  If  on  deck,  you  go  sidling 
about  in  a  most  uncertain  way.  At  one  moment  you 
may  find  yourself  alongside  the  starboard  bulwarks, 
and  next  hanging  on  to  the  port  belaying-pins,  won- 
dering where  you  have  got  to  skate  to  next. 

When  you  seek  rest,  below,  3^ou  can  hardly  find 
it.  If  there  be  a  coal-scuttle  in  the  saloon,  it  is  sure 
to  meet  you  in  the  doorway  and  get  mixed  up  with 
your  legs,  of  which  you  seem  to  have  five  and  twenty. 
If  there  are  any  footstools,  they  are  certain  to  trip 
you  up.  ]\lost  of  the  small  chairs  are  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor ;  and  the  skipper's  big  easy-chair  comes 
gliding  towards  you  as  if  it  expected  you  to  waltz 
with  it.  But  who,  in  all  the  world,  wants  to  waltz 
with  a  skipper's  easy-chair? 

In  despair  you  fling  3'ourself  on  a  couch.  If  this 
couch  stands  athwartships,  you'll  be  resting  on  your 
heels  one  minute,  and  standing  on  your  head  the 
next,  and  if  you  exchange  it  for  a  fore-and-aft  sofa, 
you'll  have  to  pick  yourself  off  the  deck  in  less  than 
a  brace  of  shakes. 


1/8     THE  voyagp:  of  the  hopeful 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear  !  "  you  cry  in  your  agony ;  "  tl\e 
man  who  goes  to  sea  for  pleasure  may  go  to  —  to  a 
far  different  phice  for  rest." 

But  neither  the  swell  nor  the  fog  continued  a  very 
long  time,  although  the  progress  of  the  ship  was  con- 
siderably interfered  with  for  a  time,  and  the  voyage 
therefore  rendered  much  longer. 

Concerning  the  fogs,  the  skipper,  with  whom 
Wilson  Webb  and  the  Doc.  were  one  day  walking 
the  quarter-deck,  made  the  following  remarks :  — 

"  Ah  !  gentlemen,  this  is  nothing.  Away  up  in  the 
Bering  Sea,  where  I  spent  many  and  many  a  season 
at  the  fur-sealing,  the  fog  was  sometimes  so  dense 
that  it  was  difficult  to  see  a  man  five  yards  away." 

"  The  fur-seal  is  the  sea-lion,  isn't  it?"  said  Wilson. 

"You're  right,  young  sir;  sea-lions,  or  sea-bears, 
these  seals  are  called,  though  I  never  could  tell 
rightly  why,  unless  it  be  that  they  roar  just  like 
the  African  lion,  or  the  great  ice-bear,  when  he's 
yawning  a  bit,  or  stretching  himself. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  it  is  up  there  they  go  to  breed, 
season  after  season,  as  regular's  the  tides.  But  how- 
ever they  can  find  their  way  through  the  dense  and 
terrible  mist,  to  these  same  Pribylov  Islands,  has 
always  been  a  poser  and  a  licker  to  me.  What  men 
o'  science  call  the  'homing  instinct,'  'cause  they 
haven't  a  better  name  for  it,  is  one  o'  the  mysteries 
of  Providence.  Talk  about  pigeons  having  this  in- 
stinct, why,  the  fur-seal  can  give  them  points  in 
everything  but  speed,  and  lick  them  hollow.     But 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  HOPEFUL       1 79 

the  strange  thing  is  this :  after  the  breeding  season 
on  their  lonely  island  is  over,  they  make  their  way 
south,  living  on  the  fish  that  the  sea  everywhere 
teems  with.  South  and  south,  to  sunny  lands,  and 
they  may  be  found  all  along  the  coast  of  Japan,  and 
goodness  only  knows  where  all  else.  Then  north 
again,  early  in  spring,  through  these  fearful  fogs  that 
you  could  cut  with  a  hatchet,  unerringly  too,  till 
they  once  more  reach  their  northern  home,  where 
the  babies  are  born.  What  guides  them?  We  sailors 
just  say  '  God,'  and  we  sa}^  it  with  some  reverence  too." 

"  Are  there  not  terrible  cruelties  committed  at  the 
fur-sealing?"  said  Wilson. 

"  Well,  in  my  earlier  days  there  were,  but  I  think 
it  is  better  now.  We  didn't  use  to  kill  the  father 
and  mother  lions,  but  we  would  get  between  the  sea 
and  the  bachelor  droves,  and  just  work  them  inland 
for  a  mile  or  so,  like  a  flock  o'  sheep,  to  a  kind  of 
slaughter-pens,  and  then  the  murder  began. 

"  So  many  did  we  kill,  too,  that  if  the  law  hadn't  at 
long  last  interfered,  to  limit  the  massacre,  I  don't 
think  that  by  this  time  there  would  have  been  a 
single  fur-seal  left  alive." 

One  day  something  white  was  reported  away  on 
the  weather  bow,  and  the  course  was  altered  a  point 
or  two.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  huge,  square  piece  of 
ice.  Snow  covered  it  was,  and  on  a  hummock  right 
in  the  centre  stood  a  huge  snow-bear.  He  was 
evidently  on  the  outlook  for  land  —  which  he  was 
destined  never  to  see. 


l8o  THE   VOYAGE   OF   THE   HOPEFUL 

Mrs.  Debrett  was  much  interested  in  the  poor 
beast,  and  when  she  heard  a  boat  being  called  away 
with  a  gunner  or  two  — 

"  Oh,  captain,  do  not  send  and  kill  the  bear. 
Indeed,  indeed,  it  is  cruel ! "  she  urged. 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  the  skipper,  "you  must 
really  credit  me  with  having  as  soft  a  heart  as  ever 
beat  in  a  sailor's  breast,  but  we  are  going  to  slioot 
that  bear  to  save  it  from  a  far  worse  fate.  Already, 
he  is  no  doubt  suffering  all  the  pangs  and  terrors  of 
starvation.  He  can  never  reach  shore.  His  raft 
will  melt  from  under  him ;  but  long  before  that  he 
would  go  mad  and  leap  into  the  sea,  onl}^  to  be  torn 
to  pieces  by  the  great  sharks,^  with  which  the 
northern  seas  abound.  Don't  you  think,  then,  we 
are  going  to  do  what  is  best?" 

Mrs.  Debrett  said  no  more,  but  went  down  below. 

One  bright,  sunny  morning  mountains  showed 
their  white  heads  over  the  blue  horizon,  to  the 
northward  and  west,  and  it  was  soon  reported  that 
Unalaska  Island  would  be  reached  that  same  even- 
ing. A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  its  position  in 
the  Aleutian  chain. 

It  has  mountains  towering  to  the  moon,  which  the 
snow  never  leaves.  And  on  a  small  island,  in  a  lovely, 
enclosed  bay,  stands  the  town  of  Dutch  Harbour. 

1  The  Scymnus  Borealis  is  probably  the  hxrgest  shark  in  the 
■world,  as  it  is  undoubtedly  the  fiercest.  I  have  seen  specimens 
caught  fifteen  feet  long,  and  they  gi-ow  even  to  eighteen  feet.  —  G.  S. 


THE   VOYAGE   OF   THE   HOPEFUL  l8l 

They  had  mails  for  this  town ;  and  so  the  anchor 
was  let  go,  and  soon  boats  surrounded  the  ship  and 
the  decks  were  crowded  with  all  kinds  and  condi- 
tions of  men. 

The  stay  here  would  be  brief,  the  captain  being 
anxious  to  get  on  to  St.  Michael's.  But  a  party, 
among  which  were  the  doctor  and  his  wife,  with 
Wilson  Webb,  were  landed,  and  much  delighted 
were  they  with  all  they  saw. 

High,  high  above  them  were  the  dazzling  peaks 
of  the  jagged  and  serrated  mountains,  but  down 
below  the  valleys  and  the  plains,  many  of  the  for- 
mer wildly  and  picturesquely  wooded,  were  green 
and  beautiful.  Birds  sang  in  the  bush  and  copses , 
and  the  whole  earth  seemed  carpeted  with  flowers, 
which  in  the  open  hugged  the  ground,  and  in  more 
shaded  places  were  tall  and  plumed. 

No  one  had  taken  a  gun — it  would  have  been 
cruel,  anj'how,  to  have  disturbed  the  reindeer,  the 
strange  little  foxes,  and  the  otters  in  their  native 
wilds. 

The  streams  appeared  to  abound  with  fish,  and 
many  kinds  of  game  were  seen  in  the  scattered 
pine  woods. 

While  admitting  that  this  island  must  be  a  very 
paradise  for  the  all-round  sportsman,  who  could 
shoot  and  fish  by  turns,  and  study  the  wonders  of 
nature  wlien  tired  of  rod  and  gun,  Wilson  had  to 
content  himself  with  taking  snap-shots  with  his 
camera.      But    with    this    he    was   very   successful 


1 82  THE   VOYAGE   OF   THE   HOPEFUL 

indeed,  especially  with  pictures  of  river  scenery, — • 
waterfalls,  rapids,  and  rocks. 

The  little  party  did  not  go  on  board  until  long 
after  moonrise,  and  if  the  scenery  was  beautiful  by 
day,  under  the  moon's  rays  it  was  solemn  and  weird 
in  the  extreme. 

As  they  rowed  back  to  the  ship,  some  one  started 
a  song,  in  which  all  joined  and  to  which  the  very 
oars,  in  their  rowlocks,  seemed  to  keep  time. 

They  were  very  happy. 

But  they  were  under  way  again  next  morning  long 
before  breakfast. 

***** 

It  was  an  Irishman,  who,  being  asked  to  describe 
his  native  village,  could  only  shake  his  head  and 
smile  and  repeat  over  and  over  again,  "  Och  thin, 
Ballintray  is  a  quare  place  ;  a  quare,  cpiare  place." 

Well,  and  our  heroes  found  St.  Michael  a  "  quare, 
quare  place."  And,  indeed,  I  don't  think  that  any- 
body looked  upon  it  with  any  degree  of  favour. 
They  had  by  this  time  settled  down  to  their  quiet, 
dreamy  sea-life,  and  this  was  a  rude  awaking  from 
so  pleasant  a  dream. 

A  "  quare  "  place,  and  a  "  quare  "  wee  town  on  the 
island  !  The  white  population  —  if  one  is  really  justi- 
fied in  calling  those  dirty  faces  white  —  numbered 
probably  about  a  hundred.  Probably  less ;  I  am  not 
quite  certain,  but  then  there  were  at  least  four  Eski- 
mos, or  Innuits,  to  every  civilised  man. 

It  didn't  appear  possible  to  Ij^nch  a  man  here ;  for 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  HOPEFUL       1 83 

altliouofh  the  roUino-  land  was  boniiie  and  flowery  and 
green,  there  was  not  a  tree  to  be  seen.  I  slioukl  be 
sorry  to  say  there  was  anything  in  the  shape  of  a 
street,  and  the  old-fashioned,  wretched  houses  were 
stuck  down  anyhow  and  seemed  to  give  one  the 
cold  shouldej-  by  often  turning  their  gables  towards 
one. 

But  there  was  a  warehouse  —  so  called  —  here  and 
there,  and  there  were  hills  in  the  farther  distance,  on 
which  it  was  pleasant  for  the  eye  to  dwell ;  to  say 
nothingr  of  the  fort. 

St.  Michael's  is  about  sixty -five  miles,  as  nearly  as  I 
can  guess,  north  of  the  Yukon  River,  and  in  two  days' 
time  a  river  boat  arrived  to  take  them  down  there, 
and  so  up  the  broad  and  winding  stream  to  the  Land 
of  Gold. 

Wilson,  the  doctor,  and  young  John  went  on  shore 
here  at  St.  ^Michael's,  but  as  there  was  nothing  ver}^ 
exhilarating  about  the  place,  and  as  the  smell  of 
decayed  fish  was  not  calculated  to  increase  the 
appetite,  they  soon  came  on  board  again. 

Everybody  was  hopeful,  and  the  saloon  of  the 
steamer  was  never  more  bright  and  cheerful  than  it 
was  that  last  evening,  after  dinner,  when  the  lamps 
were  lit  and  Wilson  liad  taken  out  his  fiddle  and 
tuned  it  up. 

The  best  of  friends  must  part,  and  next  morning 
the  disembarkation  and  reembarkation  took  place ; 
and  before  noon,  farewells  having  been  said  to 
those  they  had  to  leave  behind  them,  the  Innuit^  as 


184  THE   VOYAGE   OF  THE    HOPEFUL 

she  was    called,  was  under  way  and  coasting  down 
towards  the  great  Yuk(jn. 

I  have  said  nothing  in  my  description  of  this  voyage 
from  San  Francisco  about  the  steerage  passengers,  or 
gold-seekers  forward.  Mostly  young  they  were  and 
hardy,  as  well  they  needed  to  be.  SoniQ  were  Ameri- 
cans, but  there  were  Britishers  there,  too;  and  I  may 
say  here  at  once,  and  be  done  with  it,  that  though 
a  certain  percentage  of  these  failed  in  finding  suffi- 
cient gold  to  reward  them  for  their  enterprise,  most 
did  well,  and  several  came  back  rich  and  are  now 
living  in  beautiful  houses,  and  spending  their  money 
freely  enough  in  their  own  countries. 

It  was  pretty  hot  just  at  present  on  the  Yukon, 
and  the  more  scantily  dressed  one  was,  so  much 
the  better  as  regarded  coolness.  But  the  mosquitoes 
were  in  fine  form,  and  Wilson  Webb  soon  found  out 
that  they  could  bite  beautifully,  even  through  a  thin 
Garibaldi  shirt.  They  knew  well  what  they  were 
about,  did  those  skeeters,  and  the  very  best  places 
on  which  to  alight  and  sample  their  man.  The  ear 
was  a  very  favourite  resort  of  the  blood-thirsty  creat- 
ures, and  the  next  nicest  place,  I  think,  was  the  brow 
in  man  and  the  cheeks  or  necks  of  fair  womanhood. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  some  possessed  a  complete 
immunity  from  their  tantalising  attacks.  Young 
John,  for  instance,  and  young  John's  father  and 
mother  were  perfectly  mosquito-proof. 

Wilson  certainly  was  not,  nor  the  doctor  and  his 
dear  little  wife  either,  until  he  brought  science  to  the 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  HOPEFUL       1 85 

rescue,  in  the  shape  not  only  of  a  lotion  to  be  ap- 
plied night  and  morning  to  the  exposed  part  of  the 
skin,  but  of  a  draught  to  be  taken  at  the  same  time. 

To  prove  the  efficacy  of  this,  the  doctor  would 
catch  a  mosquito  and,  after  pulling  the  wings  off  so 
that  it  could  only  crawl,  place  it  on  a  sheet  of  white 
paper,  then,  dipping  a  clean  pen  in  the  lotion,  draw 
a  circle  round  it,  when  the  unpleasant  insect  at  once 
fell  and  expired. 

But  the  triumph  of  his  art  was  manifested  when 
he  operated  on  a  white  bull-terrier  dog,  which  was 
so  bitten  and  tormented  that  it  Avas  all  but  dead. 
The  Doc.  injected  a  few  drops  of  the  principal 
inofredient  under  the  animal's  skin  and  bathed  him 
with  the  lotion.  The  dog  was  well  in  a  few  hours, 
and  never  again  was  much  bitten. 

It  was  considered  in  'Frisco  to  be  a  very  daring 
and  foolhardy  thing  for  the  Doc.  to  take  his  young 
and  somewhat  fragile  wife  with  him. 

The  doctor  himself  was  not  of  that  opinion.  He 
knew  what  he  was  about,  and  he  never  had  cause  to 
repent  it.  Indeed,  it  was  very  much  all  the  other 
way.  For  even  before  leaving  the  city  of  the  Pacific 
slope,  she  proved  her  value  in  doing  shopping ;  and 
many  a  little  comfort  did  she  purchase  and  pack  up, 
that  he  himself  would  never  have  thought  of. 

Of  course  the  amount  of  luggage  or  outfit  was 
limited  as  to  bulk  and  weight,  but  it  is  certain  that 
Mrs.  Debrett  made  the  best  of  both,  so  that  her  hus- 
band was  really  proud  of  her. 


1 86  THE   VOYAGE   OF  THE    HOPEFUL 

And  she  had  assisted  Wilson  Webb  also  in  doing 
his  shopping  and  choosing  his  outfit. 

Moreover,  when  once  fairly  settled  in  Klondyke, 
she  proved  to  be  an  excellent  cook. 

But  stay,  they  are  not  quite  there  yet.  There  is 
all  the  long,  wide  river  Yukon  to  navigate  before 
they  can  reach  the  Land  of  Hope,  the  Country  of 
Nuggets  and  Golden  Sand. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

STEAJVHNG   UP   THE   GREAT  YUKON 

"  Xe'er  saw  T,  never  felt,  a  calm  so  deep ! 
The  river  giideth  at  his  own  sweet  will, 
And  all  that  mighty  heart  is  lying  still !  " 

—  Wordsworth. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  nor  expected  that  the 
same  comforts  and  accommodation  were  to  be  found 
on  the  river  boat,  Innuit,  which  had  made  life  so 
pleasant  on  board  the  sturdy  Hopeful.  But  as  far  as 
our  heroes  were  concerned,  this  troubled  them  l)ut 
little.  They  had  come  out  here,  not  for  pleasure,  but 
profit,  and  were  willing  to  gird  up  their  loins  and  to 
rough  it. 

And  everybody  was  healthy,  happy,  and  cheerful. 
Wilson  Webb  was  singing  all  day  long.  Singing  for 
the  same  reason  that  the  birds  sing,  because  there  is 
music  in  their  hearts,  born  of  their  beautiful  surround- 
ings, and  music  ivill  find  vent. 

Yes,  everything  they  saw  from  the  InnuiVs  deck 
now  was  new  and  strange,  and  some  of  the  scenery 
was  wild  and  beautiful  in  the  extreme. 

It  was  changeful,  too,  ever  changeful,  and  so  nu- 
merous were  the  islands  that  it  was  generally  impos- 
sible to  tell  whether  they  were  gazing  on  the  river's 

187 


1 88      STEAMING  UP  THE  GREAT  YUKON 

banks,  or  on  some  green  little  isle  in  the  midst  of  the 
stream. 

To  describe  in  detail  the  scenery  of  a  great  and 
mighty  winding  river  like  this  would,  indeed,  be  a 
labour  Herculean.  Nor  is  it  necessary.  More  wise, 
it  is,  to  try  to  identify  ourselves  with  those  on  board 
who  gazed  thereon,  oftentimes,  I  fear,  without  ap- 
preciating it ;  hardly  seeing  it,  perhaps,  so  filled  with 
hopes  and  aspirations  and  plans  for  the  future  were 
their  hearts. 

For  every  one  here  was  pregnant  with  ambition  of 
one  kind  or  another,  though  varied,  perhaps,  in 
degree. 

Wilson  Webb's  was  probably  the  highest,  the  most 
bounding.  He  could  look  ahead,  too,  with  hope,  and 
the  happiness  of  anticipation,  to  a  not  far-distant  time, 
when,  with  much  fine  gold  in  his  coffers,  he  should 
be  bounding  homewards —  yes,  "bounding"  is  just 
the  right  word,  in  the  light  place  —  across  the  broad 
Atlantic,  in  a  greyhound  of  the  fastest,  fleetest  build, 
to  the  green  shores  of  ]Merry  England,  and  the  arms 
of  the  girl  he  had  left  behind  him. 

The  doctor's  ambition  was  also  high.  He  had  all 
he  loved  on  earth  beside  him,  in  the  person  of  his 
nervous,  anxious,  but  dear  and  pretty,  wee  body 
of  a  wife.  But  great  possibilities  were  before  him, 
and  gold  could  do  anything.  He  had  not  yet,  and 
never  would,  regret  the  time  he  had  spent  in  cow- 
boy land.  The  wild  life  had  made  a  man  of  him ; 
had  strengthened  and  hardened  every  muscle  in  his 


STEAMING  UP  THE  GREAT  YUKON      1 89 

body,  even  to  that  strongest  of  all  muscles,  the  heart 
itself. 

Yet  a  medical  man's  life  in  a  city  even  like  San 
Francisco,  he  told  himself,  was  but  toil  and  slavery ; 
no  time  to  call  one's  own,  every  joy  or  pleasure 
leavened  with  anxiety. 

But  with  gold  —  ah !  No  wonder  he  rubbed  his 
hands  as  the  river  went  flowing  past  and  the  moun- 
tains and  hills  in  the  middle  distance  kept  mingling 
and  mingling,  and  seemingly  shifting  position  every 
minute  —  yes,  the  gold  !  His  countr}"  house  should 
be  a  very  beautiful  one,  his  park  all  around  it  a  gar- 
den of  dreams,  Lilla,  as  he  called  his  little  wife,  its 
presiding  genius.  But  their  house  and  lovely 
grounds  would  not  be  all.  No,  there  would  be  that 
yacht.  She  should  not  be  a  racer,  but  a  voyager, 
broad  in  beam  and  comfortable,  everything  beautiful 
and  luxurious,  and  its  saloon  like  a  mermaid's  palace. 
Everything  that  high  art  and  modern  science  could 
accomplish,  would  be  done  to  make  the  yacht  a 
triumph  and  the  envy  of  all  who  might  behold  her. 

"  For  what,"  reasoned  the  good  doctor,  "  is  the 
good  of  gold  but  to  purchase  pleasure  ?  " 

But  ]\Irs.  Debrett's  ambition  was  not  of  so  high  a 
standard.  Gold,  she,  too,  would  like  to  have,  because 
its  possession  would  render  her  husband  happy,  but 
a  home  life  would  have  much  greater  charms  for  her 
than  wandering  far  in  foreign  lands,  or  sailing  in  a 
lovely  yacht  over  sunny  seas,  unknown. 

Well,  as  to  young  John,  he  could  scarce  have  told 


1 90  STEAMING   UP  THE   GREAT   YUKON 

any  one  what  he  should  do  with  wealth  and  fortune, 
should  he  be  lucky  enough  to  fall  in  with  any.  He 
loved  a  gun,  he  loved  a  rod  and  a  good  dog,  and 
that  was  about  all  in  life  he  cared  for. 

Then  as  to  his  parents  —  old  they  were,  though 
healthy  and  hardy  —  yet  was  their  ambition  tinged 
with  a  little  sadness.  Gold?  Yes,  they  would  find 
gold,  but,  heigho !  they  were  wearing  down,  down 
towards  the  horizon  of  life,  and  gold  is  no  good  in 
the  grave,  and  they  should  have  no  need  of  it  in 
the  land  o'  the  leal. 

Very  steadily  did  the  Innnit  plough  her  way  up 
the  great  Yukon.  Eastward  first,  with  now  and  then 
a  bend  towards  the  south ;  past  many  a  strange  and 
comfortless  Indian  village,  where  the  wild  inhabitants, 
some  of  them  uncouth  even  to  extreme  ugliness,  were 
so  busy  preparing  salmon  for  the  market  that  they 
hardly  cast  a  glance  towards  the  slowly  passing 
steamboat ;  winding  in  and  out,  then  pursuing  an 
almost  direct  course  northwards  with  just  a  trifle 
of  east  in  it,  till  Nulato  is  reached,  and  soon  after 
another  river  or  tributary  that  rises  far  away  among 
the  Snow  Mountains  beyond  the  Arctic  circle,  passes 
the  hills  of  Yukon,  and  slowly,  broadening  out, 
joins  the  main  stream  here. 

Nulato  was  once,  whatever  it  may  be  now,  a  great 
fur-company's  post,  and  although  the  desolate  and 
dreary  place  lies  on  flat  rolling  ground  on  the 
northern  side  of  the  river,  it  affords  but  few  attrac- 
tions for  the  traveller.     Beautiful  enough,  however, 


STEAMING   Ur  THE   GREAT   YUKON  191 

were  now  its  summer  surroundings,  —  tlie  distant 
hills,  the  rocks  and  glens,  and  deep  woods  of  darkest 
green,  yet  it  is  hardly  the  spot  one  would  choose 
as  a  winter  resort. 

As  in  other  places,  fishing  is  here  the  principal 
employment  of  the  natives,  and  this  is  carried  on 
during  the  summer  months  by  means  of  strange 
wicker  eel-traps,  and  in  winter  through  holes  in  the 
ice. 

There  is  a  tribe  here,  or  near  here,  of  savages  far 
more  ferocious  in  appearance  than  most  met  with 
elsewhere.  In  days  gone  by  a  terrible  massacre  of 
Russians  took  place  at  the  foot  of  Nulato,  the  Ind- 
ians fighting  for  the  most  part  with  bows  and 
arrows  and  ugly-looking  knives. 

But  now  the  river  runs  straight  for  many  and 
many  a  mile,  more  northerly  after  a  time,  however, 
until  Fort  Yukon  is  reached.  Then  it  is  southward 
and  east  all  the  way  until  Dawson  City,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Klondyke  River,  appears  in  sight.  This  river 
rises  far  to  the  northeast  among  the  spurs  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  —  a  mere  brown  roaring  burn  at 
first,  dashing  on  amidst  a  chaos  of  grey  boulders, 
forming  here  a  cataract,  and  here  a  dark  brown  pool, 
where  trout  and  lish  leap  up  in  the  glad  sunshine  ; 
and  so  numerous  are  these  at  times  that  the  surface 
of  the  water  is  as  troubled,  as  if  a  shower  of  summer 
hail  were  falling  on  it. 

Few,  if  any,  men  come  to  the  Yukon  for  pleasure 
and  sport  alone ;  or  if  they  do,  they  speedily  catch  the 


192      STEAMING  UP  THE  GREAT  YUKON 

gold  fever,  get  hold  of  a  claim,  and  proceed  at  once 
to  make  their  fortunes,  or  try  to. 

But  Wilson  Webb,  being  at  heart  an  artist  as  well 
as  a  photographer,  could  not  be  otherwise  than  struck 
by  the  strange  and  ever-varying  character  of  the 
scenery.  Even  the  hills  and  mountains,  whether 
green  and  near,  or  serrated,  snow-peaked,  and  far 
away,  had  a  weirdness  about  them  he  had  never  seen 
surpassed.  The  river  was  sometimes  very  broad  and 
shallow ;  at  other  times  narrowed  by  frowning  rocks 
and  precipices,  and  so  rapid,  that  it  was,  indeed  a 
struggle  for  the  Innuit  to  get  on  at  all. 

The  forests  or  woods  were  often  dense,  and  quite 
filled  up  the  glens  at  times,  and  on  more  elevated 
and  exposed  ground  the  trees  were  growing  only 
here  and  there.  But  strangely  shaped  they  were 
and  weird,  for  all  had  to  do  battle  with  the  stormy 
winds  of  winter.  The  branches  of  the  pines — mostly 
a  kind  of  spruce — all  pointed  downwards.  They 
would  always  grow  thus,  and  it  is  doubtless  a  provi- 
sion of  nature,  to  save  them  from  being  broken  by 
the  weight  of  falling  snow. 

In  these  hills  and  near  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods 
the  reindeer  would  often  stand  to  gaze  and  wonder 
at  the  steamer ;  then,  tossing  their  antlered  heads  in 
the  air,  dash  off  at  a  speed  that  the  best  of  hounds 
could  hardly  have  equalled. 

It  may  be  guessed  that  Wilson's  camera  was  never 
idle.  The  only  difficulty  he  experienced  lay  in  choos- 
ing the  views  to  seize  upon.     He  would  have  liked 


STEAMING    UP   THE   GREAT   YUKON  1 93 

to  have  taken  them  all,  and  thus  form  a  panorama, 
giving  the  whole  sweep  of  the  mighty  Yukon. 
***** 

Dawson  City  at  long,  long  last ! 

Dawson  City  on  the  borders  of  the  Land  of  Gold ! 

The  real  El  Dorado  would  seem  at  present  to  be 
a  wild  circular  tract  of  country,  lying  between  the 
Rocky  Mountains  on  the  north  and  east,  the  Blue 
Mountains  on  the  southeast,  and  the  river  itself  from 
F'ort  Selkirk  to  Dawson  City. 


But  the  Klondyke  River  is  itself  the  largest,  and 
into  it  flows  —  high  up-stream  —  many  and  many  a 
tributary,  chief  of  these  being  the  Hunker,  the 
Bean,  and  the  Bonanza. 

Into  the  Yukon,  higher  up  still,  flow  the  Indian 
and  the  Stewart  rivers,  and  several  others  less  im- 
portant. 

Neither  Wilson  Webb  nor  the  doctor  was  much 
struck  with  the  beauty  of  Dawson  City.  It  seemed 
a  lively  enough  place,  built  here  and  there  and  any- 
how, one  might  say,  by  the  river's  bank,  but  many 
parts  laid  out  in  streets  and  squares,  many  houses 
farther  inwards  on  the  sparsely  wooded,  rugged,  and 
rolling  country.  But  on  this  lovely  summer's  day 
the  broad  river  itself  was  shining  like  silver  in  the 
sunshine,  and  the  brae-lands  that  bounded  it  to  the 


194      STEAMING  Ur  THE  GREAT  YUKON 

south  resembled  those  surrounding  some  Scotch  or 
Irish  lochs. 

Beauty  or  not  beauty,  every  one  was  glad  enough 
that  the  long  voyage  up-stream  was  ended  at  last, 
and  that  the  work  of  gold-seeking  would  soon 
begin. 

"  Dawson  City,"  said  the  aged  miner,  "  is  going  to 
be  a  big  place,  by  and  by,  whoever  lives  to  see  it. 
Ay,"  he  added,  "  and  the  real  incursion  to  Klondyke 
hasn't  hardly  begun  yet.  Indeed,  young  fellows, 
you  may  think  yourselves  happy  to  be  here  in  time." 

Wilson  and  the  doctor  went  on  shore  to  spend 
the  evening  and  just  see  how  things  looked,  but 
Mrs.  Debrett  stayed  on  board.  City  life  of  this  kind 
was  somewhat  too  rough  for  her. 

The  old  man  was  going  to  hold  back,  and  did  for  a 
time. 

"  Go  into  the  town  by  all  means,  John,"  said  his 
better  half.  "  There'll  be  many  who  want  to  see  you 
and  welcome  you  back,  and  you  can  act  as  guide  to 
the  boys.  Young  John  will  stay  on  board  with  his 
old  mother." 

"  That  will  I,"  said  John,  right  heartily. 

"  Why,  Webb,"  cried  the  Doc,  just  as  they  were 
starting,  "  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea  to  take  your 
fiddle?" 

"  Capital !  "  said  Wilson,  "  and  so  I  shall.  Who 
knows  but  that  I  may  have  to  fall  back  upon  fiddling 
yet,  when  gold-digging  fails  me  !  " 

Many  had  come  down  to  see  the  unloading  of  the 


STEAMING   UP   THE   GREAT   YUKON  1 95 

Innuit ;  for  she  carried  not  only  passengers,  but  quite 
a  variety  of  stores. 

The  steerage  people  landed  for  good,  and  almost 
all  were  provided  with  tents,  as  well  as  their  packages 
of  tools,  provisions,  etc.  They  helped  each  other  to 
carry  these,  and  they  formed  quite  a  little  camp  all 
to  themselves  in  the  rear  of  the  city. 

Mr.  Grimshaw,  the  old  man  miner,  as  it  seems  he 
was  usually  called  in  Dawson  City,  was  hardly  on 
shore  before  he  was  recognised,  —  not  by  one  man, 
but  by  many. 

In  fact,  before  they  reached  the  largest  general 
store,  he  had  to  stop  and  shake  hands  at  least  a  score 
of  times,  and  quietly  refuse  about  as  many  invita- 
tions to  the  saloon. 

"  These  young  fellows,"  he  said,  "  want  to  see  a 
little  city  life,  and  Tm  their  guide.  D'ye  lay  to  the 
situation  ?  " 

"  We  lay,"  they  would  reply ;  "  but  we'll  see  you 
at  McRae's  later  on." 

"Never  fear." 

"I'm  just  real  glad,"  said  Grimshaw,  "that  you 
paid  for  a  year's  provisions.  'Cause  'way  uj)  country 
the  winter  won't  pass  through  without  a  kind  of  gen- 
eral famine. 

"  And  things  here,"  he  added,  "  are  just  about 
starvation  prices  already.  Let  us  go  into  this  store 
and  interview  the  merchant.  Mind,  it  isn't  his  fault 
that  provisions  are  high  ;  some,  you  know,  are  more'n 
scarce,  and  then  the  trading  companies  have  formed 


196      STEAMING  UP  THE  GREAT  YUKON 

a  kind  of  corner.  Greenhorns  who  haven't  paid  for 
a  3'ear's  pi'o visions  before  leaving  Seattle  or  'Frisco 
may  make  gold  up  the  country,  but  when  they  come 
here,  somehow  the  wind  gets  hold  of  it  and  it  is  soon 
scattered." 

"All!  Mr.  Grimshaw,"  cried  the  storekeeper,  "is 
it  really  your  pleasant  old-fashioned  face  I  see  before 
me?  Shake.  This  is  a  pleasure.  And  the  old 
woman,  how  is  she  ?  " 

"  Just  as  benign  and  beautiful  as  ever.  I  thank 
the  Lord  we  both  have  health. 

"  Well,  here  are  a  couple  of  young  fellows  just 
out.  They  won't  want  much  at  present,  mebbe,  but 
later  on.  Only  they'd  like  to  have  some  idea  of  the 
prices  of  things." 

This  man  behind  the  rough  counter  and  surrounded 
by  laden  shelves  of  all  sorts  of  provisions,  and  corners 
filled  with  pickaxes  and  shovels,  boots,  shoes,  and 
what  not,  was  an  Englishman,  and  very  civil  indeed. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I've  got  a  good 
supply  of  mostly  everything ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  to 
begin  with,  that  you  won't  find  food  quite  so  cheap 
as  3'ou  would  in  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  but  some 
articles  are  what  we  call  reasonable. 

"  Here  is  rice,  sugar,  peas,  and  beans  from  thirty 
cents  a  pound,  and  bacon  only  two  shillings.  But 
moose  hams  I  can't  sell  you  under  five  shillings  a 
pound,  but  rare  good  stuff  it  is,  and  potatoes  to  go 
with  it,  if  the  best,  only  two  and  six  for  a  couple 
of  pounds. 


STEAMING  Ur  THE  GREAT  YUKON      1 97 

"  Flour  isn't  extra  cheap,  though,  and  a  hundred 
pounds  will  cost  you  well-nigh  three  sovereigns." 

"  Canned  meats  are  cheap,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
Webb. 

"  Well,  say  about  two  shillings  a  pound  tin." 

"And  salmon  must  be  very  cheap?" 

"I  dunno.  Maybe  you'd  better  catch  your  own 
fish.  Here  is  a  kippered  salmon,  look  you,  and  not 
a  very  big  one,  either,  but  he'll  cost  you  seven 
shillings ! " 

Wilson  Webb  opened  his  eyes  somewhat  wider, 
and  the  Doc.  whistled. 

"Well,  now,"  said  the  former,  "I'm  fond  of  a  good 
Ggg-  We  can  get  these,  I  suppose,  for  a  penny 
each." 

The  storekeeper  laughed. 

"  Tliere  are  no  such  things  as  pennies  here,"  he 
said,  "  and  even  a  cent  is  never  seen.  It  is  only  an 
imaginary  coin.  We  deal  mostly  for  gold  dust. 
Those  are  our  scales  along  the  counter,  yonder. 
Eggs,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  We  have  two  sorts.  The  ordinary  ones  I  can  do 
at  six  shillings,  and  the  better  class  will  cost  you 
eight  and  six  a  dozen." 

Wilson  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  "  that  the  sooner  we  get  up  coun- 
try to  excavate  the  pay  dirt,  the  better." 

"  That's  so,  gentlemen ;  and  good  luck  go  with 
you.     Shake.     Your  voice,  sir,    brings   back    to    me 


198      STEAMING  UP  THE  GREAT  YUKON 

many  and  many  a  pleasant  scene  on  far-off  English 
shores.     Good-evening." 

After  walking  about  the  town  some  time,  they 
found  their  way  to  tlie  principal  saloon. 

A  lively  shop,  indeed,  was  this.  And  the  old 
miner  and  his  young  friends  were  speedily  sur- 
rounded.    They  must  drink. 

"  Drinks,  landlord,  drinks  !  " 

Wilson  would  have  preferred  something  cooling 
to  that  fiery  old  rye,  for  the  evening  was  close  and 
hot,  even  outside.  But  here  there  was  no  iced  water 
to  be  had. 

The  landlord  shoved  three  or  four  bottles  and  half 
a  dozen  glasses  towards  them.  They  were  suj)i30sed 
to  help  themselves,  and  take  just  as  much  or  as  little 
as  they  pleased.  And  whisky  was  cheap,  if  nothing 
else  was. 

"  What !  are  you  a  fiddler  ?  "  said  the  landlord  to 
Wilson,  noticing  him  place  his  violin-case  on  the 
counter. 

"I  guess,"  was  the  reply,  "I  could  play  a  little 
better,  than  the  wretched  gut-scraper  you've  got  in 
your  ball-room." 

"  Oh,  for  goodness'  sake ! "  cried  the  saloon- 
keeper, "have  another  whisky  and  go  in." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Wilson.  "  I'll  play  best 
without  whisky,  however." 

A  dance  had  just  come  to  a  conclusion,  as  the 
young  fellow  stepped  behind  the  bar. 

"  I  say,"  whispered  the  barman,  "  don't  give  'em 


STEAMING   UP   THE    GKEAT   YUKON  1 99 

too  long  a  dance,  'cause,  ye  see,  it's  only  between 
(lances  they  drink." 

AVilson's  fiddling  to-night  was  perfection,  and  the 
ball  was  kept  up  till  long  past  twelve. 

Tlien  the  old  miner  and  his  young  friends  went  on 
board  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER   XX 

"JACKIE   HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY  DIRT " 

"  Let  us  then  be  up  and  doing, 

With  a  heart  for  any  fate  ; 

Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 

Learn  to  labour  and  to  wait."  —  Longfellow. 

There  was  an  artificiality  about  society  in  Dawson 
City  that  was  very  far,  indeed,  from  being  agreeable 
to  either  the  doctor  or  Wilson  Webb.  Both  had  a  real 
stake  in  life.     To  each  of  them 

"  Life  was  real,  life  was  earnest." 

Moreover,  both  loved  nature,  and  might  have  said 
with  Byron  in  his  "  Childe  Harold  "  :  — 

"  I  live  not  in  myself,  but  I  become 
Portion  of  that  around  me ;  and  to  me 
High  mountains  are  a  feeling,  but  the  hum 
Of  human  cities  torture." 

So  they  were  not  sorry  when  they  managed  to 
make  a  start,  at  last,  eastward  and  away  high  up 
beyond  Bonanza. 

All  went  together;  all  those,  I  mean,  who  had 
become  so  friendly  on  board  shija.  Mr.  Grimshaw, 
the  old  man  miner,  had  managed,  by  means  known 
only  to  himself,  to  retain  not  only  his  claim  but  his 
house,  during   his   absence  down  south,  —  "  inside  " 


"JACKIE   HAS    STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT"        20I 

the  states,  —  so  that  all  that  was  to  be  done  now  was 
to  reopen. 

The  roads  to  the  upper  regions  of  the  Klondyke 
were  really  no  roads  at  all,  only  beast  tracks.  Some- 
times they  led  over  high  and  rugged  hills,  sometimes 
through  dark  and  dismal  woods  and  forests,  or  across 
great,  treeless  plains,  and  anon  along  the  bottom  of 
some  rocky  ravine. 

But  the  men-folks  helped  on  the  ladies ;  and  after 
all,  I  am  not  sure  that,  old  though  Mrs.  Grimshaw 
was,  she  did  not  show  more  courage  and  cheerfulness 
than  any  one. 

Carriage  and  porterage  was  an  expensive  item, 
but  the  men  had  come  prepared,  and  they  somehow 
sincerely  believed  that  fortune  lay  before  them. 
What  mattered  a  few  extra  dollars  when  going  to  a 
land  where  wealth  was  scattered  broadcast,  and  gold 
was  to  be  had  everywhere  for  the  digging ! 

And  now  it  was  arranged  that  the  old  lady,  with 
the  doctor's  wife,  should  occupy  the  log-hut,  while 
the  men-folks  dwelt  in  tents,  until  they  could  pre- 
pare themselves  houses. 

But  the  anxiety  to  get  on,  and  to  commence  work, 
was  paramount  and  above  everything.  It  was  well, 
indeed,  for  the  doctor  and  Wilson,  that  they  had  made 
the  acquaintanceship  of  such  a  trustworthy  fellow 
as  old  John.  There  were  many  little  outs  and  ins, 
many  odds  and  ends,  that  only  lengthy  experience 
could  have  taught  them,  had  not  John  put  them  up 
to  the  ropes. 


202        "JACKIE   HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY  DIRT" 

And  the  prevailing  trait  in  young  John's  charac- 
ter was  good  nature. 

He  soon  got  his  father's  claim  under  way  and 
once  more  into  working  order,  and,  greatly  to  every- 
body's astonishment  and  delight,  it  panned  out  far 
better  than  it  had  done  before. 

The  Doc.  and  Wilson  Webb  had  no  difficulty  in 
securing  claims  for  themselves,  and  set  to  work  like 
men. 

Wilson's  was  at  some  considerable  distance  from 
the  other,  and  not  far  from  a  little  mountain  stream 
that  did  not  go  dry  even  in  summer. 

But  now  the  curious  thing  was  this,  —  that  is,  if 
in  such  a  place  as  Klondyke  anything  can  be  called 
curious,  —  Wilson  seemed  to  become  at  once  the 
favourite  of  fortune,  while  for  months  and  months 
the  poor  Doc.  had  literally  no  luck  at  all. 

No  wonder  he  began  to  get  nervous  and  fidgety, — 
the  worst  state  of  mind  it  is  possible  to  be  in. 

"  Keep  steadily  on,"  said  the  old  man  miner,  "and 
some  fine  morning  you'll  find  that  luck  will  come, 
all  in  a  jump." 

"I  don't  believe,"  said  the  poor  Doc,  "there  lies 
a  pdund  of  pay  dirt  in  the  whole  of  my  claim." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  the  old  man. 

"And  think  what  it  means  to  me,  with  winter 
but  a  measurable  distance  ahead,  and  I  incurring 
expenses  every  day;  money  going  out,  and  no  gold 
coming  in.  Why,  Mr.  Grimshaw,  the  situation  spells 
ruin ! " 


"JACKIE   HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT"       203 

"  My  dear  young  fellow !  "  cried  Grimshaw,  ear- 
nestly enough  now;  "pray  do  not  let  down  your 
heart.  Here  am  I,  old  enough  to  be  your  father, 
working  cheerily  from  morn  till  night,  taking  fort- 
une as  it  comes." 

"  You  are  one  of  the  favoured." 

"  There  are  none  such.  In  Klondyke,  as  in  every 
other  land  where  gold  is  found,  there  are  ups  and 
downs.  Those  that  lose  heart  soon  sink  and  fail; 
but  never  in  all  the  history  of  gold-mining,  did  a 
persevering  man  go  unrewarded  in  the  long  run." 

"  Well,"  replied  Dr.  Debrett,  forcing  a  smile ;  "  I 
thank  you  for  your  kindly  encouragement. 

" '  'Tis  not  ill  mortals  to  command  success ; 
But  I'll  do  more  —  deserve  it.' " 

"Bravo!"  said  his  old  friend;  "that  is  spoken  like 
a  man.  Now,  just  settle  down  quietly,  and  —  look 
here !  vary  your  work  a  bit.  Begin  to  build  your 
house." 

And  so  the  doctor  did.  There  was  little,  if  any, 
night  just  at  present,  and  Wilson  Webb  had  already 
commenced  his.  Luckily,  he  had  plenty  of  tools, 
and  was  a  very  fair  specimen  of  a  carpenter. 

But,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody,  Wilson's  house 
was  to  be  a  three-storied  one.  When  asked  to  ex- 
plain, he  just  smiled,  and  said  nothing. 

Dr.  Debrett  was  content  with  a  log-hut  of  one 
room,  but  it  was  so  neatly  arranged  inside,  that  it 
had  quite  a  home  look   about   it.     Nor  were    orna- 


204        "JACKIE   HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT" 

ments  wanting  nor  —  mirahile  dicta  !  —  a  cushion 
to  the  easy-chair,  a  footstool,  and  a  pipe-rack;  so 
that  after  coming  in  from  the  toils  of  the  day,  the 
Doc.  could  reall}^  enjoy  himself  and  imagine  he  was 
at  home.  But  was  he  not?  Yes,  Lilla  was  the  jDre- 
siding  goddess,  and  the  doctor  himself  would  have 
told  you  that  it  was  home  wherever  she  was.  I  do  not 
really  know  what  he  would  have  done  without  her. 

She  not  only  loved  him,  worked  for  him,  darned 
and  sewed  for  him,  —  these  may  not  be  very  romantic 
occupations,  but  they  are  exceedingly  useful  in  Klon- 
dyke,  —  but  she  consoled  him  in  her  own  womanly 
way,  and  with  her  own  womanly  logic. 

He  threw  himself  into  his  chair  one  eveninsr,  with 
a  tired  sigh. 

And  Lilla  lit  his  pipe. 

He  took  it  without  a  word.  Thanks  and  gratitude 
were  understood. 

"  A  little  weary,  dear  ?  " 

"  Weary,  Lilla  ?  Why,  my  little  wife,  weary  is  no 
word  for  it.  If  it  wasn't  for  you,  I'd  go  straight 
away  home  again,  and  make  for  the  city  of  'TFe're- 
all-here.'  Hang  Klondjdvc  !  Here  am  I,  slaving 
from  morning  till  night,  my  hands  are  already  as 
hard  as  a  navvy's,  my  back  aches  so  constantly  that 
I  feel  certain  I'm  getting  a  stoop,  but  though  other 
fellows  have  luck,  none  comes  my  way.  Is  a  man 
old  when  he  feels  old,  Lilla  ?  Then  I'm  ninety-five 
years  nine  months  and  a  week.  Why,  Grimshaw 
is  a  mere  boy  to  me  !  " 


"JACKIE    HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT"        205 

"  Luck  will  come,  dear.     We  must  be  patient." 

"But  Luck  doesn't.  The  jade  doesn't  see  me. 
Or  she  thinks  perhaps  I  ought  to  be  putting  legs 
in  splints,  extracting  bullets,  or  lancing  children's 
gums,  in  cowboy  town.  Bah !  I  said  to  Grimshaw 
that  I'd  do  more  than  command  success  —  I'd  deserve 
it.  Lilla,  that  was  only  just  a  bit  of  poetic  bluff. 
I  may  deserve  it  a  thousand  times  over.  Much  good 
that  does,  if  Luck  goes  down  the  other  side  of  the 
hill." 

"Do  you  know  what  I've  cooked  you  for  supper, 
Charlie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lilla,  Lilla  !  How  like  a  woman  !  When  a 
man  is  worrying  over  such  weighty  matters  as  gold 
dust  and  nuggets,  she  wants  to  divert  my  thoughts 
to  —  but  what  is  for  supper,  dear  wee  wifie  mine?" 

"  Two  lovely  mountain  grouse,  and  bacon !  " 

"  Hurrah  !  well,  I'll  sit  in." 

And  he  did. 

And  really,  judging  from  the  speed  with  which  he 
reduced  one  of  those  beautiful  birds  to  a  skeleton, 
bad  luck  had  not  much  affected  his  appetite,  any- 
how. 

Coffee  —  really  good,  fragrant  coffee,  but  nothing 
stronger. 

"Better  than  all  the  old  rye  in  the  world,"  he  said, 
as  he  reseated  himself  in  the  easy-chair,  with  pipe  in 
hand,  and  his  third  big  cup  within  easy  reach  of  his 
hand. 

Lilla  sat  on  a  low  "  creepie  "  by  his  side  after  mak- 


206        "JACKIE    HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT" 

ing  up  tlie  fire,  so  that  she  could  meud  that  stockmg, 
aud  lean  against  his  knee  at  the  same  time. 

"  Charlie  dear,"  she  said  after  a  pause,  "  there  is 
only  one  thing  needed  to  complete  our  happiness." 

"  Gold  ?  " 

"  No,  the  cat  I " 

"  So  like  a  woman,  again  !  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  feel  really  sorry  we  didn't  bring  poor 
Tim  with  us.  I  think  I  can  see  him  sitting  on  the 
footstool  yonder,  nodding  to  the  fire  and  singing. 

"  It  is  so  soothing  and  consolatory,  you  know,"  she 
added. 

"  Oh,  very,"  he  said.  He  spoke  sarcastically.  "  I 
suppose  if  you  had  the  cat,  you  wouldn't  mind  stay- 
ing here  all  your  life." 

"  The  cat  and  you,  Charlie  !     The  cat  and  you  !  " 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  very  innocently,  and  he 
couldn't  help  bending  down  to  kiss  her  brow. 

"  You're  only  a  baby  ! "  he  said. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  is  all,"  said  Lilla.  "  But,  heigho  ! 
everybody  can't  be  a  man.      Can  everybody?" 

A  few  nights  after  this,  Wilson  was  putting  what 
he  called  the  finishing  touches  to  his  "  mansion,"  as 
the  miners  had  named  it,  when  the  doctor  strolled 
in. 

Webb  was  working  by  candlelight.  He  had  made 
thes€  dips  himself  from  the  fat  of  a  bear,  that  one 
of  the  boys  had  killed  in  a  wood  hard  by. 

The  young  fellow  seemed  very  happy  and  cheerful, 
and  was  sinpfiner  low  to  himself  as  he  worked. 


"JACKIE   HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT"        20/ 

"Ha!  Doc,"  he  cried,  "seat  yourself,  old  man. 
You'll  find  'baccy  there.  How  lucky  we  took  a 
good  supply  of  the  blessed  stuff!  Well,  and  how 
do  you  pan  ?  " 

"  Pan  ? "  replied  the  doctor,  in  a  sadly  aggrieved 
tone  of  voice.  "  Man  alive  !  that  claim  of  mine  isn't 
worth  shucks.  A  man  might  slave  away  there  for 
a  dozen  years  and  not  find  enough  gold  to  keep  him 
in  shaving  soap.  I'm  going  prospecting  to-morrow, 
and  if  I  don't  find  a  good  thing,  why,  I'll  believe  that 
fate  has  made  a  dead  set  against  me." 

"Keep  up  your  courage,  Doc.  There  are  good 
times  coming!" 

"  Good  times,  indeed  !  Pah  !  that  is  what  you  all 
say,  you  and  old  Grimshaw  and  young  John,  and  the 
whole  of  you.     I'd  like  to  see  them,  that's  all." 

Well,  Dr.  Debrett  and  one  or  two  other  disap- 
pointed miners  did  go  prospecting  next  day,  and 
old  Mrs.  Grimshaw  went  to  stay  with  Lilla,  and 
keep  her  company. 

All  round  about  the  neighbourhood,  where  our  hero 
had  settled,  there  were  many  claims,  and  many  good 
fellows  hard  at  work,  some  drawing  blanks,  while 
to  others.  Fortune,  the  fickle  jade,  was  dealing  out 
"  trumps." 

Well,  we  cannot  all  be  born  with  silver  spoons  in 
our  mouths.  Some  of  us  have  to  be  contented  with 
Britannia  metal. 

But  what  I  was  going  to  say  was  this :  to  each 
and  all  of  these  sturdy  miners   Lilla  was  a  queen. 


20S  "JACKIE    HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT" 

AVhether  rich  or  poor,  they  woukl  have  done  any- 
thing for  her,  and  ever  when  she  passed  by  they 
stood  erect  and  doffed  their  grubby  hats,  and  were 
rewarded  with  the  sweetest  of  smiles. 

"  I  had  a  dream  last  night,"  said  Lilla,  on  the 
second  morning  after  her  husband's  departure. 

"  A  dream,  dearie  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mammy  Grimshaw ;  I  thought  Charlie  and  I 
were  sailing  over  a  blue,  blue  sea,  in  a  lovely  yacht. 
Oh,  so  lovely  !  for  the  decks  were  mother-of-pearl  and 
the  sails  of  beaten  gold." 

Mammy  Grimshaw  laughed. 

"  I  hope  the  dream  will  come  true,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  I'm  going  to  make  it  come  true,  mammy ! " 
cried  Lilla,  merrily.  Then  she  struck  a  theatrical 
attitude,  with  one  hand  raised  on  high. 

"  This  is  Charlie's  style,"'  she  said: 

'"'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success; 
But  w  e'll  do  more  —  deserve  it.' 

"But  Charlie  lets  down  his  heart  too  soon,  and 
that  isn't  deserving  it,  is  it  ?  " 

Then  this  queer  little  woman  took  out  of  a  box 
a  spare  mining-suit  of  Charlie's.  Of  course  they 
were  much  too  big  for  her,  but  she  put  them  on  all 
the  same,  and  made  Mammy  Grimshaw  dispose  of 
the  extra  longitude  in  arms  and  legs  with  the  aid 
of  a  darnincr-needle  and  a  stout  thread. 

The  hat  well-nigh  buried  her  ;  so  she  threw  that  to 
one  side  and  put  on  a  hood  of  her  own. 


"JACKIE    HAS   STRUCK   THE   TAY   DIRT"  2O9 

Next  she  got  hold  of  a  pick  and  a  shovel,  and  pre- 
pared to  inarch. 

"  'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success,"  she  said. 
"But  how  do  I  look  on  the  whole,  Mrs.  Grimshaw?" 

"  Very  nice,  dear." 

"  But  I'll  do  more,  mammy  —  I'll  deserve  it." 

The  miners  did  stare  as  Lilla  passed  them  on  this 
particular  morning,  and  more  than  one  sturdy  fellow 
went  forward  to  meet  her  and  offered  to  carry  her 
tools. 

But  she  thanked  him  and  refused  the  proffered 
aid,  and  hurried  on  to  her  husband's  claim. 

Now  there  was  one  of  the  boys  to  whom  not  only 
the  doctor  but  Mrs.  Debrett  had  been  exceedingly 
kind.  He  was  a  bad  bo}',  that  is  true,  —  a  kind  of 
a  Klondyke  ne'er-do-weel,  —  thougli  I  daresay  that, 
like  most  of  us,  he  had  some  good  in  him,  deep 
down.  A  blue-eyed,  bright-faced  young  fellow  of 
about  seventeen,  Avho  did  odd  jobs  for  everybody, 
but  never  failed  to  get  the  worse  for  drink  when  he 
had  a  chance. 

He  happened  to  be  very  much  down  on  his  luck 
on  this  particular  morning,  white-faced  and  hungry- 
looking. 

He  simply  doffed  his  hat  and  stood  before  Mrs. 
Debrett,  near  to  the  claim. 

"  Well,  Jackie,  haven't  you  a  word  to  say?  " 

"  Can't  think  of  nuffin,  miss." 

Jackie  was  really  a  London  lad.  He  had  been  by 
turns  a  shoeblack,  a  paper  boy,  a  boot-lace  boy,  a 
p 


2IO  "JACKIE    HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT" 

stowaway,  and  so  forth ;  but  here  he  was,  and  nobody 
would  see  Jackie  starve. 

"Well,  run  off  at  once  to  Mammy  Grimshaw's 
—  she's  in  the  doctor's  hut  —  and  get  something  to 
eat,  and  be  back  here  in  a  brace  of  shakes.     Ahem !  " 

Jackie  ran  like  a  hare. 

"  Brace  of  shakes  !  "  said  Lilla  to  herself.  "  Why, 
I'm  getting  quite  nautical.  So  this  is  hubbie's  claim! 
Dear  hubbie  !  Why,  he's  a  good  way  down,  and  what 
heaps  of  stuff  all  about.     Well,  I'm  going  to  work." 

And  in  she  went. 

Her  hands  were  red  and  sore  before  she  had  laboured 
for  half  an  hour.  She  had  to  straighten  up  every 
now  and  then  to  get  the  kinks  out  of  her  back.  But 
she  started  again  every  time  afresh. 

"  Poor  Charlie ! "  she  said,  "  no  wonder  he  looks 
weary  and  old  when  he  comes  home." 

But  now  came  Jackie,  running.  He  was  a  cute 
lad,  and  there  was  nothing  he  didn't  know  about 
mining;  only  in  Klondyke  it  is  simple  enough,  or 
was  in  those  days,  there  being  no  quartz -crushing. 

Well,  those  two  strange  miners  slaved  awa}^  all 
day,  but  without  mucli  luck. 

Jackie  had  a  good  supper,  though,  and  a  dollar. 
He  promised  faithfully  not  to  touch  rye,  and  he  kept 
his  word.  So  when  he  turned  up  the  next  day  at  the 
hut,  he  was  much  more  bright  and  cheerful. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  be  a  downright  water-bibber,"  he  said. 
"  Goin'  to  save  all  my  bloomin'  skivvies,  and  by  and 
by,  buy  a  claim,  and  become  a  bloomin'  millionaire." 


HER    HANDS    WERE    RED    AND     SORE     BEFORE     SHE    HAD     LABOURED    FOR 
HALF    AN    HOUR. 


"JACKIE   HAS   STRUCK   THE   PAY   DIRT"        211 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  may,  Jackie ;  but  you  mustn't 
say  '  bloomin','  because  it's  a  bad  word,  except  when 
applied  to  flowers." 

Wonders  never  cease  at  Klondyke,  and  when,  that 
same  day,  Jackie  was  seen  executing  a  wild  dance  all 
around  the  cradle  and  sluice  box,  now  on  top  of  a 
heap  of  earth  or  gravel,  now  in  a  hollow,  and  whoop- 
ing like  an  Indian,  then  says  one  miner  to  another, 
"Jackie's  drunk  again,  Tim." 

"  That  ain't  a  drunk,"  said  Tim.  "  Jackie's  struck 
the  pay  dirt,  or  I'm  a  Dutchman." 

"  Let's  go  and  see." 

They  went,  and  Tim  was  right. 

Jackie  showed  them  a  nugget,  then  Lilla  herself 
produced  another,  and  if  either  was  worth  a  brass 
farthing,  it  was  worth  two  hundred  dollars,  and  more. 

Poor  Lilla  !  she  scarcely  could  sleep  that  night  for 

joy- 
When  she  opened  the  door  next  morning,  behold ! 

there  was  faithful  Jackie,  curled  up  for  all  the  world 

like  a  tame  coyote,  in  a  big  tub  lined  with  straw. 

So  sound  asleep  was  he  that  she  had  to  shake  him 
for  nearly  a  minute  before  she  succeeded  in  waking 
him. 

Jackie  ad  been  on  watch  all  night,  with  a  revolver 
hidden  among  the  straw,  but  had  sunk  to  sleep  at 
last. 

"  Poor  lad ! "  she  said,  and  went  away  to  make  his 
breakfast,  and  her  own. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

"A   NEW    SORT   OF   SAUCE?  —  GOLD  !  " 

"Gold!     Gol.l!     Gold!     Gold! 
Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold  ; 
Spurned  by  the  young,  but  hugged  by  the  old 
To  the  very  verge  of  the  churchyard  mould." 

—  Hood. 

It  was  quite  a  fortnight  after  the  discovery  of  those 
splendid  nuggets  before  Dr.  Debrett  returned.  Lilla 
was  getting  very  uneasy  about  him  indeed,  Avhen, 
one  evening,  soon  after  sundown,  travel-stained  and 
weary,  he  dragged  himself  up  to  the  door  of  his  hut. 

I  daren't  attempt  to  describe  the  joy  of  that  meet- 
ing. But  Mrs.  Grimshaw  went  quietly  home.  She 
was  not  needed  any  more  for  the  present. 

Then  more  dry  wood  was  heaped  on  the  fire,  and 
Lilla,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  and  looking  quite 
"  wifey,"  as  the  Doc.  expressed  it,  proceeded  to  cook. 

Jackie  had  taken  an  hour  off,  and  had  brought 
some  beautiful  mountain  trout  home. 

"And  you  don't  ask  me,  Lilla  dear,  if  I've  had  any 
luck  this  journey." 

"  Oh,  no,  Charlie.  I  can  read  disappointment  in 
your  face  ;  but  never  mind,  dear.     No,  never  mind  !  " 

"  Of   course    not,"    answered    Charlie,    with   some 


"A    ^'E^V   SORT   OF   SAUCE?  — GOLD!"  213 

degree  of  bitterness  and  irony.  "  Of  course  I  won't 
mind.  I  rather  like  the  situation.  Starvation  is  one 
of  the  best  things  in  the  Avorhl,  and  ragged  clothes  is 
next  nicest.     And  winter  coming  on  too  I      Capital ! 

"But,  I  say,  Lilla,  where  on  earth  have  you  been 
with  your  hands  ?  They're  as  hard  and  brown  as  old 
John's.     Been  grubbing  among  the  pay  dirt?     Eh?  " 

Lilla  didn't  answer. 

She  just  laughed  a  little,  dished  the  trout,  and  then 
going  to  a  box  in  the  corner,  took  therefrom  two 
heavy  pickle-bottles,  and  placed  one  at  each  side  of 
her  husband's  plate. 

"What  in  all  the  world  have  you  got  there,  dear? 
Some  new  sort  of  sauce?     Eh?" 

Then  he  took  up  a  bottle. 

"  What  a  weight !  Wliy  I  I  say,  Lilla  !  Wh-wh- 
why,  lass,  this  is  Gold  !  " 

Then  Lilla  sat  down  on  her  husband's  knee,  for 
just  half  a  minute,  to  receive  her  reward  in  — tlianks. 

The  sleeve  of  her  best  gown  was  resting  lovingly 
on  top  of  the  fried  fish,  but  that  didn't  seem  to  signify 
one  little  bit,  back  nor  fore. 

"  Well,  well,  well ! "  cried  the  Doc,  when  he  had 
eaten  nearly  all  the  trout,  and  lit  his  pipe.  "  Why, 
wonders  will  never  cease  I     Lilla,  you're  a  jewel! " 

And  high  up  in  those  curling  wreaths  of  smoke, 
the  good  doctor  could  see  once  more  visions  of  the 
beautiful  home  lie  luid  promised  himself,  and  the 
beautiful  yacht  on  sea. 


214  "^^   NEW   SORT   OF   SAUCE  ? —  GOLD  !  " 

The  doctor's  claim  kept  well  to  the  fore ;  so  did 
that  of  Wilson  Webb;  but 'the  Grimshaw  diggings 
somehow  came  to  a  sudden  close.  They  had  struck 
a  rocky  kind  of  quartz,  and  the  old  man  miner 
determined  to  give  up  for  a  bit. 

But  young  John  had  too  much  energy  in  him  to 
be  easily  downcast. 

He  got  a  fresh  claim,  and  commenced  digging  on 
his  own  account.  But  winter  had  come  now  in 
downright  earnest,  and  so  work  was  doubly  hard 
and  tiring. 

The  stimulus  to  gain  gold,  however,  more  and  more 
gold,  kept  both  the  doctor  —  with  Jackie  to  help  — 
and  Wilson  Webb,  working  whenever  it  was  possible. 
Washing  was  out  of  the  question,  but  they  secured 
the  dirt  just  the  same.  The  miners  here  were 
honest.  Had  any  one  been  caught  pilfering  from  a 
neighbour's  claim,  rough,  indeed,  would  have  been 
the  handling  he  would  have  received  from  his 
brother-miners. 

If  thieves  had  stolen  anything,  I  do  not  think  it 
would  have  been  gold,  but  food ;  for  some  of  these 
poor  fellows  were  hard  enough  pushed  now,  and  as 
the  weather  got  worse,  these,  having  no  provisions, 
made  up  their  wealth  in  packages,  and  started  off 
down  west  to  Dawson  City. 

As  I  am  telling  a  plain,  unvarnished  tale,  I  need 
not  trouble  to  conceal  the  truth.  Well,  then,  to 
return  to  Dawson  was  about  the  worst  move  these 
miners   could   have    made.     For   here    they  had   to 


"A   XEW   SOET   OF   SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  !  "  21  5 

live  in  common  lodging-houses,  at  tremendous  ex- 
pense, and  pay  for  everj-thing  they  ate  or  drank 
with  their  hard-earned  gold. 

An  idle  life  is  an  irksome  one  ;  and  many  of  them 
sought  for  mental  relief  by  smoking  all  day  long, 
and  by  appearing  every  night  at  the  alluring  dance, 
the  drinkino--bar,  and  the  o'amblincr-table. 

Then,  when  spring  began  to  return  wdth  floods 
that  washed  away  the  snow,  quite  a  large  percentage 
of  these  unhappy  men  succumbed  to  illness. 

These  would  never  dig  again;  nevermore  handle 
pan  or  pick  or  shovel. 

It  was  even  suspected  that  more  than  one  of 
them,  overwhelmed  with  despair,  hastened  their 
own  ends ;  though  this  is  almost  too  terrible  to 
believe. 

When  spring  came  back  in  reality,  and  all  in  a 
jump,  as  some  miners  described  it,  Wilson  Webb 
announced  his  intention  of  leaving  Klondyke.  The 
rumour  spread  abroad,  and  more  than  one  speculator 
offered  to  bu}^  his  claims  and  pay  him  handsomely 
in  nuggets. 

"•  No,"  he  said,  "  no ;  I  am  going  home  with  a 
purpose,  but  I  shall  retain  my  claims "  —  he  had 
taken  up  tliree,  though  he  worked  but  one  —  "I  shall 
retain  my  claims,  and  my  house  as  well,  because 
I'm  coming  back,  and  that,  too,  I  hope,  long  before 
the  summer  has  ended." 

Perhaps  Wilson  was  speaking  without  his  host. 
That  host  was  a  compound  one,  and  composed,  if  so 


2l6  "A   NEW   SORT   OF   SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  !  " 

I  may  word  it,  of  the  steamboat,  the  ice,  the  wind, 
and  the  weather  generally. 

However,  he  packed  up.  Young  John  promised, 
and  so  did  the  doctor,  to  give  a  look  at  Wilson's 
diggings  and  claim  once  a  week,  at  least. 

And  so  with  hurried  farewells,  with  a  heart  full  of 
hope,  and  gold  in  his  boxes,  galore,  our  hero  Webb 
departed. 

There  was  ice  on  the  river,  but  it  was  in  floating 
streams,  and  the  steamer  was  a  strong  one,  and  so 
could  give  those  baby  icebergs  points  in  speed  of 
floating,  and  beat  them  hand  over  hand. 

We,  the  readers  and  author,  have  the  wings  of 
imagination  and  so  can  fl}^  faster  even  than  the 
albatross,  and  thus  we  get  back  to  England  long 
before  Wilson  Webb  has  reached  the  mouth  of  the 

Yukon. 

***** 

Now  those  two  boys,  Laurie  and  Ernest,  felt  just, 
as  sure   of   going  out  to  Klondyke,   to  make  their 
fortunes,  after  they  received  that  long  letter  from 
their  dear  friend  Wilson,  as  they  felt  certain  of  the 
sun  rising  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

The  letter  to  Ernest  and  Laurie  —  for  it  coupled 
both  their  names  —  was  quite  a  business  one,  but 
most  friendly  and  generous.  Here  is  a  bit  of  it,  read 
by  Laurie  himself  one  beautiful  spring  morning,  b^^ 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  and  with  interested  and 
sparkling-eyed  Leebie  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Well,    you    lads    must    be   seventeen   now,    and 


"A  XEW  SORT  OF   SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  ! "  217 

beo-un  again,  and  my  wee  favourite,  Leebie,  is  mebbe 
wee  no  longer.  Fifteen  is  not  old,  I  confess.  How 
I  wish  I  were  fifteen  once  again  I  But  a  girl  of 
fifteen  isn't  a  baby,  so  Leebie  must  not  shed  more 
than  about  ten  teai-s  when  I  take  you  boys  back 
with  me  to  Klondyke.  It  will  be  just  too  awfully 
jolly  for  anything.  And  somebody  else  is  going 
back  with  me,  too  —  you  would  never  guess  —  " 

''Tm  going  for  one,"  cried  Leebie,  interrupting. 
"  Perhaps  you  would  guess  tliat^  boys  ?  " 

"  You've  heard  me  speak  of  Madeleine  Peters,"  the 
letter  ran  on.  "  Well,  we  are  both  going  to  be  mar- 
ried, yes,  the  whole  lot  of  the  two  of  us  are  to  be 
married,  —  for  I  shall  marry  Maddie,  and  ^Liddie  is 
going  to  marry  poor  me." 

"  Anybody  could  have  guessed  that,"  said  Leebie, 
nodding  her  pretty  head.  "And  I  shall  go  out  as 
Maddie's  maid.     Oh,  I'm  determined  to  I  " 

"  Well,  boys,"  the  letter  continued,  "  I'll  be  with 
you  mebbe  a  week  after  you  get  this,  unless  unfore- 
seen circumstances  determine  my  stay  in  the  city  of 

C — .'• 

"  Ha  1  ha  1 "  Leebie  laughed,  roguishly.  '^  I  know 
what  that  means.     I  know.     I  know. 

"  Don't  I.  Towsie  ?     Don't  I,  Currie  ?  " 

From  the  capers  those  two  dogs  now  cut,  it  really 
looked  as  though  they  had  been  listening  to  the  read- 
ing of  that  long  letter,  and  fully  understood  every 
word  of  it. 

And  even  Neddy  must  lift  up  his  voice  and  laugh, 


2l8     "A  NEW  SORT  OF  SAUCE ?  — GOLD  ! " 

with  a  "  ITaw-hee  "  and  likewise  a  "  ^ee-haw,"  till 
the  echoes  rang  from  wood  and  brae. 

Well,  Farmer  Lea  was  a  very  easy-going  farmer, 
indeed,  and  Mrs.  Lea  was  a  true  English  farmer's 
wife.  Contented  and  hajDpy  always  —  till  now,  and 
even  now  they  could  see  no  objections  to  Laurie  going 
out  to  Klondyke.  He  would  be  in  good  hands,  and 
the  boy  must  do  something,  for  the  farm  hardly 
paid. 

But,  ah !  to  think  of  Leebie  wanting  to  go  with 
him ! 

Dreadful ! 

Leebie  would  never  return.  No,  they  could  not 
spare  her. 

This  was  the  situation  when  Wilson  Webb  and  his 
young  bride  turned  up  one  day  at  the  farm. 

Now,  Farmer  Lea  had  known  Wilson  before  and 
had  a  high  regard  for  him,  but  Madeleine  he  had 
never  yet  seen.  Her  sweet  young  face,  and  that 
bonnie  bride's  bonnet,  took  the  honest  farmer's  heart 
quite  by  storm,  however. 

The  young  folks  could  only  stay  for  a  day,  the}'' 
said,  but  Lea  had  told  them  that  day  must  extend  to 
a  week,  and  they  consented. 

Leebie  Lea  was  not  slow  to  see  that  this  would  be 
for  her  advantage. 

She  enlisted  Maddie's  services  in  pleading  her 
cause. 

"If  1/021  can  stand  Klondyke,"  she  said,  "so,  I'm 
sure,  can  /.     So  do  get  father  to  let  me  go." 


"A  NEW  SORT  OF  SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  !  "     219 

"I'll  do  my  best,  dear,"  said  Maddie ;  "you  may 
rely  on  that." 

"  And  you  are  really  going  to  Klondyke,"  said 
Lea  after  dinner  that  evening.  "  You,  so  young,  so 
tender !  Oh,  Mrs.  Webb,  you  will  never,  never  re- 
turn !  Ice  and  snow  all  the  year  round.  Surely,  you 
will  not  venture  I  " 

But  Wilson  Webb  laughed  heartily. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "the  tenderest  child  can  stand 
the  climate  of  Klondyke.  In  fact,  children  are 
there,  and  ladies  too.  Tlwi  summer,  the  spring,  and 
even  the  autumn  are  charming;  blue  skies  and  fleecy 
clouds,  birds  singing  in  every  woodland  and  grove, 
and  wild  flowers  everywhere.  During  these  seasons 
it  is,  indeed,  a  land  to  be  loved,  and  the  winters, 
though  somewhat  dark  and  dreary,  are  really  no 
worse  than  they  are  in  the  far  north  of  Scotland." 

"Is  that  really  so?  But  then,  are  not  the  hard- 
ships to  be  endured  very  great  while  getting  there  ?  " 

"No  ;  not  by  any  manner  of  means,  when  one  goes 
about  it  in  the  right  way.  Then  think  of  the  fort- 
unes to  be  made  !  Here,  in  this  country,  —  which 
really  is  played  out,  —  all  is  a  struggle  and  a  grind, 
simply  to  make  ends  meet,  and  even  this  is  often 
impossible. 

"  So  long  as  a  man  is  young,  Mr.  Lea,  he  can  fight 
for  life  against  adverse  fortune,  here  in  England ;  but 
when  old  age  begins  to  load  him  down,  tinge  his  hair 
with  grey,  and  bow  his  slioulders,  the  struggle  is  all 
unequal.     It  was  but  the  other  day,  sir,  I  heard  a 


220  "A   NEW   SORT   OF   SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  !  " 

man,  holding-   a   good   position   in    commercial   life, 
make  this  remark :  '  I  care  not  how  soon  I  die.' 

"  '  What  I '  I  said,  '  are  you  tired  of  life  already  ? ' 

'"No,  no,'  he  replied;  'the  love  of  life  but  in- 
creases with  years.  But  I  have  all  I  can  do  even 
now  to  live,  and  old  age  would  be  for  me  but  one 
long,  lingering  death.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  Lea,  "  I'm  fifty ;  I  daresay  I  am  a 
little  too  old  for  Klondyke  !  " 

Then  Wilson  Webb  told  him  all  about  the  old 
man  miner  and  his  wife.. 

Mr.  Lea  looked  at  his  wife. 

"Shall  2ve  go,   dear?"  he  said. 

"Naj',  nay,  husband,"  she  answered.  "I  wouldn't 
exchange  my  dear  old  English  farm  for  life  in  a 
heathen  land,  where  ne'er  is  heard  the  chime  of 
Sunday  bells,  for  all  the  gold  in  Ophir." 

"No  more  would  I,"  said  Lea.     "Light  my  pipe." 

But  so  prettily  did  Mrs.  Webb  play  her  cards  that 
at  last  Farmer  Lea  consented  to  let  Leebie  go  with 
her,  on  the  promise  that  if,  on  her  ariival  in  Klon- 
dyke, she  did  not  like  the  place,  or  was  homesick, 
Wilson  himself  should  come  all  the  way,  straight 
back  with  her. 

***** 

But  there  was  the  question  of  expenses  to  be  con- 
sidered as  far  as  Laurie  and  Ernest  were  concerned. 
This  was  soon  got  over. 

"  I  owe  my  life  and  my  liberty  to  these  boys,"  said 
Wilson,  speaking  most  earnestly  now,  "  and  as  some 


"A  NEW  SORT  OF  SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  !  "     221 

return  for  so  great  a  favour,  they  must  permit  me  to 
pay  their  passage  and  journey  to  Klondyke.  And 
if  pride  prevents  them  from  accepting  this  as  a  free 
gift,  then  I  will  respect  their  feelings.  They  can 
pay  me  back  from  the  gold  they  dig  from  their 
claims  the  first  year." 

Then  Ernest  brought  Wilson  to  see  his  father. 

There  was  not  the  slightest  difficulty  about  obtain- 
ing his  consent. 

"  By  all  means,"  said  the  jolly  old  English  squire, 
"let  the  lad  go  out.  If  he  doesn't  make  a  fortune, 
why,  he  can  only  fail.  Fm  not  sure  that,  morally 
speaking,  failure  won't  be  as  good  for  him  as  fortune. 
What  do  you  think  yourself,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Think  I  "  replied  Ernest,  with  sparkling  eyes,  as, 
boylike,  he  encircled  his  father's  neck.  "  I  couldn't 
tell  you  all  I  think.  Only  just  one  thing,  —  you're 
the  best  and  dearest  of  daddies,  and  if  I  had  my  way, 
an  Act  of  Parliament  should  be  brought  in  to  have 
all  fathers  built  on  the  same  model,  and  that  would 
be  yours." 

"Well,"  said  the  squire,  laughing,  "mind  you 
take  care  of  my  lad,  ]\Ir.  Webb,  and,  by  the  way,  you 
may  just  as  well  come  and  dine  with  us  to-night,  and 
bring  Mrs.  Webb  and  Mr.  Lea's  children ;  they  and  I 
are  old  friends. 

"  Who  knows,"  he  added,  "  that  I  shan't  take  a 
run  out  to  Klondyke  myself,  after  hearing  you 
dilate  a  little  further  on  its  golden  glories." 

"No,  no,  dadd}',  we  won't  have  you.     Providence, 


222     "A  NEW  SORT  OF  SAUCE  ?  — GOLD  !  " 

you  know,  didn't  make  Klondyke  for  English 
squires :  only  for  younger  sons." 

"  Good-morning,  Llr.  Webb.  Six  o'clock.  We 
are  all  early  people  here." 

"Six  o'clock,  with  pleasure,  sir." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A  sportsman's  paradise 

"  Fur  and  fecather,  heath  and  heather, 
Birds  and  beasts  in  bush  and  tree, 
With  rod  and  gun,  with  sport  and  fun, 
Alaska  is  the  land  for  me."  —  Alaska. 

Six  o'clock  precisely ! 

Well,  it  was,  i:)erhaps,  an  early  hour  for  society 
people  to  dine.  But  the  squire  was  old  enough  to 
be  entirely  independent  of  society  and  its  customs. 
And  he  was  there  himself  to  meet  his  guests,  his 
brave,  broad  bosom  heaving  under  an  expanse  of 
what  the  miners  would  call  "  starched  shirt " ;  his 
jolly  red  face  beaming  with  smiles,  tliat  half  hid  his 
kindly  eyes. 

Well,  Mrs.  Elliot  was  there  also;  a  dear  little 
woman,  people  said  who  knew  her  best,  only  nobody 
would  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say  she  was  tlie  squire's 
better  half.  And  when  she  graced  any  public  enter- 
tainment with  her  presence,  she  was  referred  to  by 
the  local  reporters  simply  as  the  squire's  lady.  She 
belonged  to  the  non-assertive  class,  which  very  many 
ladies  do  not. 

"  Why,  what  have  you  got  there,  Mr.  Webb  ?  "  said 
the  squire. 

223 


224  A   SPORTSMAN'S   PARADISE 

"  Oh,"  said  Ernest,  "  I  made  him  bring  that." 

And  he  took  Wilson's  violin-case  and  placed  it  on 
the  hall-table,  as  he  spoke. 

"  That,"  said  Wilson,  "  is  ni}'-  first  wife,  and  though 
you  would  hardly  call  me  a  bigamist,  I  am  happy  to 
say  she  is  still  alive." 

The  dinner  was  a  very  great  success,  not  exactly 
from  a  culinary  point  of  view,  for  the  squire  did  not 
retain  the  services  of  a  French  cook,  but  because 
every  one  was  so  happy  and  cheerful,  and  it  really 
did  the  squire's  heart  good  to  look  at  the  joyous, 
beaming  young  faces  of  the  children,  as  he  persisted 
in  calling  Ernest,  Laurie,  and  Leebie. 

But  for  a  whole  hour,  if  not  more,  after  dinner,  the 
squire  kept  Wilson  Webb  all  to  himself,  and  kept  him 
talking  too,  mostly  about  the  wonderful  river,  the 
river  Yukon. 

Wilson  having  gone  down  the  mighty  stream  — 
which,  by  the  way,  is  in  some  places  over  five  miles 
from  bank  to  bank  —  as  well  as  up  it,  and  having 
amassed  a  whole  portfolio  of  views  thereof,  which  he 
had  brought  with  him  to-night,  was  no  mean  author- 
ity *on  the  subject. 

And  Wilson  was  tremendously  enthusiastic,  and  a 
portion  of  this  enthusiasm  communicated  itself  to  the 
squire. 

"  Heigho  !  "  he  said,  "  I'd  like  nothing  better,  I  do 
believe,  than  to  be  a  3'oung  man,  with  nothing  much 
belonging  to  me  except  a  pick  and  a  spade  and  a 
gun. 


A   SPORTSMAN'S   PARADISE  22$ 

"  Why,  making  one's  fortune,"  he  added,  "  all  by 
one's  own  exertions,  must  be  more  exciting  by  far 
than  even  football  —  Rugby  rules  I  " 

"  It  is,  sir,"  said  Wilson,  "  and  I've  tried  both. 
But  at  the  lowest  estimate,  the  output  of  gold  from 
these  regions  will  soon  be  greater  than  that,  from  all 
the  other  regions  of  the  earth  combined.  It  is 
scarcely  to  be  computed  in  figures,  and  lucky,  indeed, 
will  they  be  who  are  there  in  time." 

Then  he  described  to  his  earnest  listener  all  the 
strange  but  beautiful,  though  often  dreary  scener}^,  of 
the  Yukon ;  especially  in  its  upper  regions,  with  its 
mountains,  its  hills,  and  its  multitude  of  islands,  too 
numerous  far  to  be  even  counted. 

Wilson  Webb  was  nothing  if  not  a  naturalist; 
even  the  Avild  flowers  found  on  the  river  banks  and 
in  the  glens  appealed  to  his  very  heart.  They  were, 
every  one,  a  poem. 

"  Just  after  you  start  to  steam  up  the  river,  the 
scenery  may  be  somewhat  uninteresting,  though  half 
covered  in  haze,  as  it  often  is,  it  has  a  look  of 
mystery  about  it  that  makes  one  long  to  land  and 
explore. 

"But  even  here  on  the  banks  grow  the  silver  saugh, 
stunted  alder,  and  several  species  of  willows,  where 
birds  abound  in  springtime.  With  the  rattle  of  the 
engine  you  may  not  be  able  to  hear  them,  but  with 
your  glasses  they  may  be  seen.  About  opposite  to  the 
head  of  Norton  Bay,  and  just  where  the  river  begins 
to  flow  from  the  east,  we  encounter  lovely  woods." 
Q 


226  A   SPORTSMAN'S   PARADISE 

"  Ah !  it  is  there  I  should  like  to  be,"  said  the 
squire,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar. 

"  Well,  sir,  as  you  would  expect,  the  trees  are 
mostly — with  the  exception  of  the  cotton  wood  — 
just  those  you  meet  with  in  Scotland,  and  the  silver 
birches  on  the  braes  are  exceedingly  beautiful.  And 
as  in  Scotland,  berries  grow  everywhere  wild  in  the 
woods,  —  blaeberries,  raspberries,  sj^lendid  cranber- 
ries, cro wherries,  and  even  currants." 

"A  good  country  for  sport,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  was  coming  to  that.  Though,  mind  you, 
sir,  with  the  prospect  of  getting  gold  for  the  gather- 
ing higher  up,  he  would  be  a  very  enthusiastic  sports- 
man, indeed,  who  would  think  twice  about  either  fur 
or  feather. 

"  Well,  whetlier  bears  are  or  are  not  to  be  ranked 
as  fur,  there  they  are  —  plenty  of  them,  —  brown, 
black,  and  grizzly,  and  very  far  north,  the  gigantic 
Avhite  bear  himself. 

"  Then  there  are  all  sorts  and  —  I  was  almost 
saying — sizes  of  foxes,  —  the  red  fox  and  the  black 
fox,  and  higher  up  the  real  Arctic  or  white  fox,  but 
these  latter,  I  am  of  opinion,  are  only  white  in 
winter. 

"  There  are  otters,  also,  in  abundance  on  every  wild 
stream  :  and  they  tell  me  there  are  beavers,  as  well,  to 
be  found,  but  I  have  never  seen  them.  I  mentioned 
the  black  fox,  sir,  but  that  is  really  the  pekan  or 
fisher  marten. 

"  Then  the  wolverene,  I  am  sure,  would  interest  any 


A   SPORTSMAN'S   PARADISE  227 

one.  It  looks  like  a  little  bear,  though  its  face  is 
that  of  a  dog  with  a  high  domed  skull.  It  would  be 
easier  to  say  what  it  doesn't  eat  than  what  it  does. 
It  is  a  very  great  enemy  to  the  birds,  its  claws  en- 
abling it  to  climb  the  highest  trees.  It  will  even 
attack  cattle  and  reindeer." 

"  Well,  are  the  reindeer  common  on  the  Yukon  ?  " 

"  Not  very  plentiful. 

"But  there  are  plenty  of  wolves,  and  they  come 
down  in  winter,  their  tracks  often  being  found  near 
the  huts.  And,  of  course,  there  are  marmots  and 
rabbits  too,  in  abundance. 

"  The  grizzly  is  found  among  the  mountains,  and 
my  own  experience  is  that,  unless  you  are  spoiling 
for  a  tight,  it  is  best  to  give  him  a  wide  berth. 

"The  brown  bear  of  these  regions  is  quite  a  char- 
acter, in  Avhatever  way  you  consider  him.  He  has  a 
hobby  of  his  own,  and  that  is  fishing.  Moreover,  he 
is  an  epicure  in  his  way,  and  will  only  eat  salmon, 
and  that,  too,  the  best  and  cleanest.  He  is  very 
fierce,  moreover,  and  many  terrible  fights  take  place 
ever}^  year  between  the  Indians  and  these  monsters. 

"Nevertheless,  the  brown  bear  has  his  uses,  for 
if  a  traveller  follows  his  trail,  he  will  not  go  far 
wrong;  he  will  find  all  the  easiest  travelling  and 
the  best  fords,  —  always,  however,  having  to  keep  his 
weather  eye  open,  in  case  of  meeting  Mr.  Bruin 
himself.  And  Mr.  Bruin  always  stops  to  question 
one. 

"  Well,  away  on  the  more  mountainous  districts, 


228  A   SPORTSMAN'S   PARADISE 

big  game  is  found,  —  deer,  moose,  sheep,  goats,  and 
caribou." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Webb,  you  speak  for  all  the  world 
like  a  book,  and  the  wonder  to  me  is,  that  you  don't 
write  one ! " 

"  Oh,"  said  Wilson,  laughing.     "  I'm  going  to." 

"  But,  you  haven't  said  a  word  about  feathers 
yet." 

"No,  sir;  nor  fish. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "  the  higher  regions  of 
the  Yukon,  and  all  around,  are,  during  the  short,  but 
delightful,  summer  season  the  home  of  more  birds 
than  can  easily  be  imagined.  But  they  are  nearly 
all  emigrants,  either  from  the  states  of  America,  or 
from  the  far  north.  For  here  we  find  the  snow-bunt- 
ing, or  snow-flea,  as  Greenland  sailors  call  it,  and 
that  loveliest  gull  in  all  creation,  the  snow-bird 
whose  plumage  rivals  the  driven  snow  in  its  purity 
and  whiteness.  Warblers  are  in  very  great  abun- 
dance, and  wrens  of  various  sorts. 

"  But,  sir,  one  should  scarcely  expect  to  find  the 
humming-bird  here,  but  here  it  is,  nevertheless, 
flitting  from  wild  flower  to  wild  flower,  and  sip- 
ping its  sweets.  We  have  bobolinks,  also,  and  gros- 
beaks, and,  later  on,  grouse,  wild  duck,  teal,  etc.,  and 
as  many  as  one  cares  to  shoot 

"  Trout  swarm  in  the  lakes,  and  in  every  brown  pool 
of  every  mountain  stream ;  and  1  fear  I  should  be 
accused  of  telling  a  mere  sailor's  yarn,  if  I  mentioned 
how  many  the  Indians  sometimes  haul  out  in  a  single 


A   SPORTSMAN'S   PARADISE  229 

hour,  with  the  most  ordinary  and  simple  of  hshing- 
gear. 

"And  as  to  salmon,  why,  the  Yukon  has  probably 
more  than  any  other  river  of  its  size  in  the  known 
world. 

"We  miner  people,  however,  have  little  time  or  in- 
clination to  fish.  All  our  thoughts  are  on  gold,  gold, 
gold!" 

"  Well,  Mr.  Webb,  I  don't  altogether  blame  you ; 
for  hunting  for  treasure  must  become  a  kind  of  mania, 
even  as  gambling  does,  after  a  time.  But  neverthe- 
less, you  have  been  describing  a  sportsman's  paradise. 
How  I  should  like  to  be  there  with  rod  and  gun ! 

"  But  come,"'  he  continued,  "  my  good  fellow ;  we 
want  to  see  your  first  wife." 

"  You  shall,  sir,  and  hear  her  too.  Probably  Mrs. 
Elliot  will  preside  at  the  piano." 

Mrs.  Elliot  did,  and  so  the  evening  passed  quietly 
and  pleasantly  away.  It  was  one  to  be  remembered 
long,  long  after  this,  when  those  who  sat  m  the 
squire's  cheerful  drawing-room  that  evening  were  far, 
far  away  in  the  wilds  of  Klondyke. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND 

*'  Ye  gentlemen  of  England, 
Who  live  at  home,  at  ease. 
Ah  !  little  do  you  think  upon 

The  dangers  of  the  seas."  —  Old  Song. 

*'  Come  wander  with  me,  for  the  moonbeams  are  bright 

On  river,  in  forest,  o'er  mountain  and  lea."  —  Jeffreys. 

Why,  the  emigration  of  our  young  friends  was 
quite  an  exodus. 

It  is  really  a  difficult  thing  for  an  author  to  deal 
with  so  many  heroes  and  heroines.  He  is  thus  handi- 
capped and  just  a  little  bewildered,  as  the  circus  rider 
must  feel,  who  goes  hooping  round  the  sawdust 
stage,  riding  on  one  beauty,  and  driving  half  a  score 
before  him. 

Well,  to  say  nothing  of  the  two  boys,  —  young 
fellows,  then,  —  Wilson  Webb,  with  his  happy  little 
wife,  and  Leebie,  who  seemed  happier  than  anybody, 
here  on  board  tins  ocean  greyhound  is  the  English, 
wall-eyed,  but  wise,  old  bob-tailed  sheep-dog  Towsie 
and  daft,  droll  little  Currie.  Nominally,  these  dogs, 
while  on  board,  were  in  charge  of  the  cook.  Really 
and  truly,  they  were  in  Leebie's  charge,  and  nobody 
else's. 

230 


OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND   23 1 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  chief  mate,  "that  I  can 
permit  your  dogs,  miss,  to  come  running  aft.  Dogs 
are  generally  kept  shut  up,  most  of  the  time." 

"  Oh,  captain ! "  pleaded  Leebie,  most  prettily, 
"  Towsie  and  Sir  Duncan  Currie  have  been  used  to 
run  wild  on  the  prairie,  —  I  mean  the  moor,  —  and  if 
shut  up,  they  would  die.     Then,  captain,  so  would  I." 

I  think  the  chief  officer  rather  liked  being  styled 
captain,  and  then  Leebie  was  such  a  beautiful  girl. 
He  spoke  lower  now,  and  bent  down  towards  her  as 
he  said :  — 

"  Do  pretty  much  as  you  please  about  it,"  he  said, 
"  but  don't  get  me  into  hot  water,  if  possible.  I 
will  pretend  not  to  see  them,  and  I'll  tell  the  other 
officers  to  do  the  same." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you ;  it  is  so  kind !  " 

So  the  two  dogs  had  far  more  liberty  than  is  gener- 
ally granted  to  animals  of  the  race  canine  when 
crossing  the  broad  Atlantic. 

At  first,  Towsie  and  Currie  were  observed  to  be 
holding  little  consultations  together,  concerning  the 
peculiarity  of  the  circumstances  under  which  they 
were  placed. 

"  I  say,  Currie,  old  man,"  said  Towsie,  on  the  very 
first  morning  the}^  were  let  out  for  a  dance,  "  I  say,  it 
does  seem  funny,  don't  it?" 

"Seems  to  me,  Towsie,"  replied  Currie,  "we're 
going  somewhere,  and  if  it  wasn't  that  master  and 
mistress  were  both  here,  I  wouldn't  half  like  it." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't,  and  I'd  feel  far  more  at 


232   OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND 

home  among  the  heather.  The  liouse  keeps  moving 
so,  too,  and  outside  all  the  world  is  water.  Besides, 
my  head  is  swimming  so,  Currie,  and  I  can't  stand 
nor  walk  across  the  floor  without  almost  falling.  But 
here  comes  the  servant  with  breakfast." 

They  were  fed  and  felt  better. 

"  I  say,"  said  Currie,  "  there  are  some  things  in 
this  world  that  even  dogs  can't  understand,  vastly 
superior  in  intellect  though  they  be  to  men  beasts 
as  a  general  rule." 

"  True,  Currie,  true." 

"  Well,  Towsie,  my  philosophy  is  this  :  '  what  ye 
can't  understand,  don't  worry  over.'  Care  killed  a 
cat,  Towsie,  so  what  do  you  say  to  a  scamper?  There 
isn't  any  grass  or  flowers  growing  here,  but  never 
mind.     I'm  off." 

He  was  off  indeed,  and  so  was  Towsie,  round  and 
round  and  round  the  decks  in  a  wild,  daft,  inde- 
scribable kind  of  a  scamper,  and  though  they  often 
fell,  they  soon  got  up  again.  It  is  true  that  Towsie 
collided  with  a  boy  carrying  a  huge  dish,  brouglit 
the  lad  to  the  deck,  smashing  the  dish  and  scattering 
about  a  score  of  crisp  brown  sausages  in  the  lee  scup- 
pers. A  trifle  like  that  did  not  signify  a  bark  to 
either  Currie  or  Towsie.  They  ran  till  tired,  then 
trotted  aft  to  the  quarter-deck,  where  it  was  a  deal 
drier  and  more  pleasant,  and  commenced  to  make 
acquaintances  among  the  saloon  passengers.  In  tliis 
they  were  most  successful,  especially  with  the  chil- 
dren ;  so  it  is  no  wonder  that  before  the  vessel  was 


OVER  THE  SEAS,  AXD  OVER  THE  LAND   233 

three  days  out,  the  "twa  dogs"  were  the  greatest 
favourites  on  board. 

Leebie  had  onl}^  one  grief.  She  had  not  been  able 
to  take  Bobbie  and  Neddy  with  her.  But  she  hoped 
to  meet  them  again  when  all  her  wanderings  were 
over;  and  she  was  determined  to  present  both  these 
pets  with  patent-leather  harness  mounted  with  Klon- 
dyke  gold. 

***** 

Well,  there  was  a  long  and  even  dangerous  jour- 
ney before  our  people  yet,  before  they  should  reach 
the  Land  of  Gold. 

Wilson  Webb  was,  of  course,  captain-commandant 
of  this  brave  expedition,  and  after  his  arrival  at 
New  York  he  had  to  consider  and  choose  one  of  two 
routes,  and  there  was  no  one  with  whom  he  might 
consult. 

If  you  have  a  map  of  the  world,  reader,  —  and  a 
very  handy  aid  to  one's  memory  such  a  broad  sheet 
is,  —  you  will  easily  find  Lake  Winnipeg,  that  majes- 
tic inland  sea  that  lies  a  long  way  south  and  west 
of  Hudson's  Bay. 

Had  Wilson  taken  his  party  there,  he  could  have 
gone  by  railway  to  Vancouver,  and  thence  across 
the  water  to  Victoria,  and  thence  again  to  Juneau 
by  boat.  For  Wilson  meant  to  take  the  overland 
route  this  time  from  the  mining-town  of  Juneau. 

But  he  had  never  crossed  British  America,  and  had 
an  idea  that  the  journey  through  the  United  States  to 
San  Francisco  would  prove  far  less  tiring  to  the  ladies. 


234   OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND 

Wilson  really  proved  himself  a  good  general.  And 
he  did  what  every  traveller  should  do  before  com- 
mencing a  long  journey  to  a  foreign  land:  he  kept 
a  note-book  by  him  night  and  day,  —  literally  lashed 
himself  to  it,  as  sailors  say,  —  and  herein  he  jotted 
down  every  idea  as  it  occurred  to  him,  and  the  name 
of  every  article  of  the  outfit  that  must  be  taken.  He 
was  unlikely,  therefore,  to  forget  anything  that  should 
prove  really  serviceable  or  tend  to  the  comfort  of  his 
wife  and  friends ;  and  even  the  dogs  were  not  for- 
gotten. 

Of  course,  he  showed  his  wife  this  note-book  now 
and  then,  and  she  gave  him  many  suggestions  that 
proved  ultimately  valuable. 

Well,  the  lighter  articles  of  the  outfit  were  nearly 
all  purchased  in  England ;  and  they  found  an  im- 
mense saving  by  so  doing.  Other  things  were 
bought  in  New  York  itself  and  San  Francisco,  and 
odds  and  ends  at  Juneau,  even. 

Although  anxious  enough  to  get  on,  Wilson  could 
not  resist  the  pleasure  of  letting  his  crew,  as  he 
called  them,  have  a  peep  at  the  wonders  of  New 
York.  So  he  made  a  three  days'  stay  in  this  splen- 
did city. 

The  hotel  was  not  only  comfortable,  but  quiet  and 
homelike ;  and  instead  of  dining  in  the  main  room, 
they  managed  to  get  private  apartments,  to  which 
even  Towsie  and  Currie  were  not  denied  admission. 

Wilson  determined  to  leave  nothing  undone,  to 
make   the   exceedingly  long  and  somewhat  hazard- 


OVER   THE   SEAS,    AND   OVER  THE   LAND       235 

ous  journey  have  all  the  charms  of  a  picuic  for 
Maddie  and  Leebie. 

"  We,  boys,"  he  told  Ernest  and  Laurie,  as  they 
sat  together  in  the  verandah  one  evening,  "could 
rough  it.  We  are  strong  and  hardy  and  cool.  More- 
over, we  are  temperate  ;  and  I  think  we  are  just 
about  as  brave  as  most  Englishmen,  or  Scotchmen, 
either.  But,"  he  added,  "women-folks  are  women- 
folks, you  know.  I  am  going  to  do,  and  am  doing, 
just  about  all  I  know  to  prevent  a  breakdown." 

"  You  don't  fear  it  ?  "  said  Ernest. 

"  No,  I  don't  fear  it,  because  Maddie  is  strong  and 
happy  —  oh,  there  is  a  deal  in  that  I  And  our  Leebie 
has  all  the  expectancy,  the  dash,  and  the  courage  of 
youth  to  keep  her  up.  Nevertheless,  a  harsh  wind 
shall  never  blow  on  them,  if  I  can  keep  it  at  bay. 

"  Well,  boys,  I  don't  really  think  that  we  shall  be 
out  a  year,  altogether;  still,  I  have  taken  an  outfit 
for  two,  and  Ave  shall  take  provisions,  also,  for  two 
years.  Maddie  has  chosen  the  rig-out  —  winter  and 
summer  —  for  herself  and  Leebie  ;  and  reall}',  I  must 
confess  that  it  is  not  only  comfortable,  but  even 
beautiful.  I  did  not  credit  Maddie  with  such  good 
taste,  as  regards  fur  garments  and  head-dresses,  as  she 
really  has.     Oh,  she  is  really  clever ! 

"  But,"  added  Wilson,  "  I  did  not  consult  her  as 
regards  clothing  for  you  boys,  and  for  myself.  And 
those  garments  for  which  you  were  measured,  and 
the  material  of  which  you  left  to  my  choice,  you  will 
find  just  the  things  for  Klondyke." 


236   OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND 

"  Yes,  and  Laurie,  here,  and  mj-self  wondered  why 
you  were  so  particular  about  a  fit." 

Wilson  laughed. 

"Because,  my  boj-,  I've  been  there,"  he  laughed, 
"and  happen  to  know  that  comfort  is  only  gained  by 
having  garments  that,  though  loose,  fit  well.  We 
have  all  got  working-suits  of  stout  jean,  with  work- 
ing-pants and  boots.  Yes,  and  I  have  laid  in  the 
wherewithal  to  mend  these  latter ;  for  I  assure  you, 
lads,  you  will  often  have  to  be  your  own  cobblers  as 
well  as  your  own  tailors.  Needles,  thread,  scissors, 
buttons,  and  all  paraphernalia  of  that  kind,  I  laid  in 
while  in  London,  with  sweaters,  socks  and  stockings, 
towels  and  toilet  outfit,  and  even  tents.  These  are 
easily  and  neatly  packed  in  the  waterproof  bags,  in 
which  some  sorts  of  easily  damaged  provisions  will 
ultimately  be  stowed.  We  will  procure  more  furs 
at  Juneau  or  Dyea,  where  the  Indians  make  and 
sell  them ;  but  I  have  taken  out  from  Encrland  half 
a  dozen  eider-down  quilts,  and  sleeping-bags,  also. 
These  last  I  had  to  have  made.  They  are  of  water- 
proof canvas,  lined  with  fur. 

"  Often  and  often  have  I  slept  out  all  night  in 
these,  even  in  the  wildest  weather. 

"  But  I'm  not  done  yet.  I  have  no  less  than  a  dozen 
pairs  of  blue-glass  spectacles  to  prevent  snow-blind- 
ness. Pretty  gU3^s  we  shall  all  look  with  these  on,  I 
must  own,  but  what's  the  odds,  so  long's  you're  happ}-  ? 

"  Then  I  have  the  best  camera  outfit  that  could  be 
purchased  in  London." 


OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND   237 

"And  guns?"  said  Ernest. 

"Yes;  I  have  a  good  rifle  and  good  fowling-piece 
for  each  of  us,  to  say  nothing  of  revolvers ;  but  these 
won't  be  needed,  boys,  for  there  is  very  little 
rowdyism,  indeed,  even  in  Dawson  City. 

"And  I  have  some  fishing-tackle.  Not  much, 
though,  because  the  Indians  can  procure  us  all  we 
want  in  that  direction. 

"  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  made  a  note  of,  before 
I  left  Klondyke  to  come  home,  and  that  was  mos- 
quito curtains.  With  these  and  Dr.  Debrett's  won- 
derful antidote,  our  lives  will  be  a  real  pleasure  all 
the  way  through. 

"  Well,  I  have  taken  a  note,  also,  of  all  the  tools 
we  shall  need ;  but  these  we  can  purchase  where  we 
buy  our  provisions,  namely,  at  San  Francisco." 

While  Wilson  Webb  was  talking.  Sir  Duncan 
Currie  was  sound  asleep  on  Laurie's  knee,  but 
honest  Towsie  stood  by  the  speaker's  side,  with  his 
chin  resting  on  his  leg,  and  gazing  up  into  his  face 
with  loving  intelligence,  as  if  he  understood  every 
word  that  was  said. 

Wilson  put  his  hand  on  the  dog's  head  at  last. 

"No,  my  good  Towsie,  I  haven't  forgotten  you, 
either.  Yourself  and  Currie  will  have  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink,  and  far  more  fun  and  romping  than  ever 
you  could  have  enjoyed  in  England." 

Towsie  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  And  I  have  bought  you  and  Currie  a  waterproof 
blanket,  or  jacket,  each ;  besides  towels,  all  for  your- 


238   OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND 

selves,  combs,  and  brushes,  and,  last  but  not  least,  a 
pair  of  strong,  sharp  scissors." 

"  And  what  may  these  be  for  ?  "  said  Ernest.  "  To 
pair  their  nails  ?  " 

"No,  3'oung  fellow,  but  to  cut  away  the  hair 
between  the  toes,  else  it  speedily  gets  balled  in 
snow  time,  and  the  dog  is  then  rendered  sore- 
footed,  lame,  and  useless." 

Well,  in  course  of  time,  our  brave  little  band 
found  itself  safe  in  'Frisco.  Here  Wilson  received 
a  hearty  welcome  awaiting  from  many  old  friends, 
and  was  obliged  to  stay  nearly  a  week. 

Here,  again,  Wilson  gave  proof  of  his  good  gen- 
eralship ;  for,  retaining  only  the  food  and  things  that 
were  absolutely  necessary  for  the  overland  journey 
from  Juneau  north  and  away  to  the  gold  regions, 
and  for  a  month's  stay  at  the  claims,  he  had  all 
heavy  stores  carefully  packed  and  sent  by  sea  to 
St.  Michael's.  They  would  be  conveyed  thence  up 
the  river  to  Dawson  City,  and  met  there  by  the 
young  miners  themselves. 

They  arrived,  at  last,  in  Juneau  by  boat,  without 
a  single  adventure,  and  without  encountering  even  a 
heavy  sea,  far  less  a  storm. 

But  they  met  many  a  slowly  melting  iceberg,  the 
cold  breath  of  which  told  them  what  sort  of  a 
countr}'   they  might  erelong  expect  to  come  to. 

The  summer  was  far  advanced,  by  the  time  they 
reached  Juneau,  but  they  hoped  to  arrive  at  the  El 
Dorado  in  good  time  to  begin  the  digging,  nevertheless. 


OVER   THE   SEAS,    AND   OVER   THE   LAND       239 

Juneau  is  a  town  on  the  mainland  or  level  ground, 
but  backed  by  high  mountains  and  certainly  not 
devoid  of  the  picturesque  in  appearance.  A  strag- 
gling sort  of  a  place,  which,  with  its  whisk}^  saloons, 
its  dancing-halls  and  gambling-hells,  put  Wilson  in 
mind  of  Dawson  City  itself. 

However,  tliere  was  no  time  to  waste  in  criticising 
it.  Northwards  now  on  a  very  uncomfortable  little 
steamer  as  far  as  Dyea.  Maddie  and  Leebie  had 
heard  a  deal  about  D3'ea,  and  quite  expected  to  find 
it  a  large  and  flourishing  city.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
but  a  small  trading-post  up  a  creek,  inhabited  chiefly 
by  Indians. 

But  these  Indians  proved  to  be  very  handy,  in- 
deed, and  it  was  not  very  long  before  a  bargain  was 
struck  with  them,  and  they  agreed  to  carry  all  the 
packages  safely  northwards  as  far  as  Wilson  should 
wish. 

To  their  credit,  be  it  told,  that  though  very  far, 
indeed,  from  prepossessing,  these  Indians  weie  hardy, 
strong,  cheerful,  and  willing, 

They  had  to  be  well  paid,  however. 

Well,  Lake  Lindeman,  or  Lindermann,  is  about 
five  and  twenty  miles  from  Dyea,  over  the  terrible 
Chilcoot  Pass. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  Maddie  and  Leebie 
could  walk  this  trail. 

Indeed,  Wilson  Webb  had  arranged  that  they 
should  walk  only  very  little,  indeed. 

He  had   brought   a  very  large  packet  from    San 


240   OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND 

Francisco  to  Juneau,  and  thence  to  Dyea,  and  when  it 
was  undone  and  fitted,  lo,  and  behold  !  a  very  com- 
fortable palanquin,  not  unlike  those  used  in  India, 
only  far  lighter  and  broader. 

The  two  ladies  could  sit  in  this,  side  by  side,  and  it 
was  borne  by  four  Indians  on  two  long,  light  bamboo 
poles.  Moreover,  it  could  be  shut  up  by  windows  on 
either  side. 

This  contrivance,  for  the  construction  of  which 
Wilson  deserved  no  small  kudos,  was  plentifully 
lined  with  furs  and  had  pillows  on  which  to  rest  the 
back  and  head. 

Waggons  and  horses  might  possibly  have  accom- 
plished the  first  eight  miles  of  the  zigzag  road,  that 
led  along  the  banks  of  a  brawling  stream. 

They  were  bound  for  Sheep  Camp,  where  a  halt 
is  to  be  made  for  the  night. 

Both  Ernest  and  Laurie  found  all  their  work  cut 
out  when  they  began  the  ascent  up  through  the  woods 
that  grew  on  the  rocky  mountain  sides.  They  were 
not  really  in  proper  Alpine  form,  and  they  were  not 
Scots. 

But  they  were  brave  young  Englishmen,  and  far 
too  courageous  to  think  of  complaining. 

To  Wilson,  with  his  stout  heart  and  his  iron  mus- 
cles, the  task  was  as  easy  as  it  was  to  the  Indians 
themselves ;  at  some  of  the  more  difficult  parts,  more 
strength  had  to  be  bent  on  to  the  palanquin  poles, 
and  for  this  purpose  loads  had  to  be  left  behind. 

With  a  stout  stick   in  his    hand   Wilson   walked 


OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND   241 

along  by  the  side  of  the  "  palkee,"  talking  and  laugh- 
ing with  its  occupants,  both  dogs  keeping  close  to 
his  side,  as  if  on  guard.  , 

Indeed,  neither  Towsie  nor  his  little  companion, 
Currie,  liked  the  look  of  these  Indians,  and  told  each 
other  so. 

"  There  is  no  sa3^ing,  Currie,"  said  Towsie,  "  what 
they  mightn't  do.  They  might  throw  them  over  a 
rock  or  run  right  away  with  them.  Well,  Carrie, 
mind  this :  if  I  see  anything  suspicious,  I'll  give  a 
bark,  then  we  shall  both  attack  in  the  rear.  You 
are  to  go  for  their  calves,  because  you're  not  big ;  but 
I  shall  fix  my  teeth  in  something  higher  up,  and,  my 
ej^es,  Currie,  won't  I  make  them  squirm  just  I " 

Well,  there  was  little  likelihood  of  those  Indians 
running  away  with  the  "  palkee  "  during  the  ascent, 
at  all  events ;  and  so,  after  a  hard  struggle,  they 
reached  Sheep  Camp,  and  here  they  determined  to 
pass  the  night. 

The  Indians,  who  were  accompanied  by  some  of 
their  squaws,  had  brought  their  own  food  and  blan- 
kets ;  the  "  palkee  "  would  be  the  sleeping-berth  of 
the  ladies,  and  the  men-folks  would  pass  the  houis 
of  darkness  in  their  sleeping  bags. 

While  Wilson  prepared  a  warm  dinner,  cooked  in 
real  gipsy  fashion,  Maddie  and  Leebie,  glad  enough 
to  stretch  their  legs,  went  for  a  stroll,  accompanied 
by  tlie  boys  and  dogs.  These  latter  were  wdld  with 
joy,  bounding  over  rocks  and  boulders,  dashing  into 
the  woods,  and  disappearing  as  if  they  never  meant 


242   OVER  THE  SEAS,  AJTD  OVER  THE  LAND 

to  return ;  reappearing  again  grinning  from  ear  to 
ear,  so  full  of  joy  and  gladness  that  it  made  every- 
boc^'  happy  to  look  at  them. 

Laughing  and  chatting  gayl}^,  our  friends  wandered 
on  until  they  reached  an  eminence  from  wliich  the 
view  on  either  side  was  very  impressive. 

Away  to  the  north  and  the  east  and  north  were 
jagged,  serrated  mountains,  on  the  snow-clad  summits 
of  which  the  setting  sun  was  throwing  a  glorious 
flood  of  crimson  light,  the  shadows  a  pale,  pale 
blue. 

To  the  west  was  a  canon,  and  far  away  splendid 
glaciers.  Southwards,  when  they  looked  beneath 
them,  was  the  everlasting  woods,  but  far  away  the 
tranquil  ocean  itself,  asleep  in  the  evening  sunshine. 

The  silence  was  very  impressive,  broken  onl}-  by 
the  strange  wailing  cries  of  birds  or  beasts ;  they 
knew  not  which.  Both  dogs  were  panting  and  tired, 
and  they,  too,  appeared  awed  by  the  silence  and  soli- 
tude of  their  surroundings. 

They  got  back  to  camp  just  as  the  shadows  of 
night  were  falling;  falling  and  filling  up  the  canon 
and  glens. 

Sound,  indeed,  was  the  sleep  of  every  one  to-night. 
I  may  probably  except  tlie  dogs,  however,  one  of 
whom  slept  at  each  side  of  the  ''palkee,"  an  arrange- 
ment suggested,  I  believe,  by  Towsie  himself. 

But  ugly  though  they  certainly  were,  those  Indians 
were  faithful  enough. 

Nevertheless,  when  our  heroes  were  awakened  next 


OVER  THE  SEAS,  AND  OVER  THE  LAND   243 

niorning  before  it  was  quite  light,  and  found  a  bright 
fire  of  wood  burning  not  far  off,  with  a  hissing  frying- 
pan  over  it,  for  a  short  time  at  all  events,  while  they 
rubbed  their  eyes  and  looked  at  each  other,  Laurie 
and  Ernest  would  have  given  something  to  know 
where  they  were  in  particular. 

The  odour  of  that  frj-ing-pan  was  very  inviting, 
however;  so  they  quickly  wriggled  clear  of  their 
sleeping-bags,  and  then  memory  returned  to  them 
all  at  once. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

ON   THE   GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN 


Anon. 


"  Hurrah  !  my  lads,  we'll  build  a  raft, 
A  strong,  substantial,  sturdy  craft."  — 

"  Row,  brothers,  row ;  the  stream  runs  fast, 
The  rapids  are  near  and  the  daylight's  past."  —  Moore. 

The  struggle  over  that  wild  pass,  which  com- 
menced soon  after  breakfast,  was  a  terrible  one  ;  and 
there  is  really  no  use  in  denying  it. 

For  far  over  a  thousand  feet  the  climb  was  both 
steep  and  dangerous.  Maddie  and  Leebie  were  now 
much  too  frightened  to  remain  in  the  palkee,  even  if 
it  had  been  possible  to  lug  the  contrivance  to  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  they  being  inside.  It  was,  accord- 
ingly, left  at  a  place  called  Stone  House,  with  the 
heavier  packages,  as  it  took  all  the  power  the  Indians 
possessed  to  assist  the  ladies  and  dogs  up  the  fearful 
slope. 

The  Scots  talk  of  "  a  stout  heart  to  a  stey  brae." 

Well,  this  brae  was  more  than  stey ;  and  the  word 
'  stey,"  I  may  inform  Englishmen,  means  steep  multi- 
plied by  ten. 

The  climb  was,  moreover,  somewhat  zigzag,  as 
the   Indians  took  it,  and  at  times  steps  had  to  be 

244 


ON   THE   GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN  245 

formed.  But  it  Avas  really  wonderful  how  bravely 
those  girls  bore  up. 

As  for  Leebie,  I  do  think  that  she  w^as  far  more 
coneerned  about  the  dogs,  than  about  her  own  safety. 

1  must  tell  you  how  these  last  were  got  up.  Dogs, 
as  a  rule,  are  bad  Alpine  elimbers ;  so  Laurie  stopped 
at  the  top  of  the  canon  until  the  Indians,  after  seeing 
Maddie  and  Leebie  safe,  had  returned.  Then,  much 
to  their  surprise,  Towsie  and  Currie  were  tied  up, 
each  in  a  sleeping-bag,  and  thus  carried  to  the 
summit. 

Were  their  trials  and  dangers  at  an  end  now? 
Nay,  indeed;  they  were  really  but  beginning. 

There  was  six  miles  of  snow  to  be  crossed,  and 
the  wild  descent  to  Lake  Lindeman  to  be  negotiated. 
Though  there  was  but  little  wind  blowing,  —  there 
always  is  a  bi'eeze  on  the  mountains,  by  the  way, — 
still  the  little  there  was  made  it  piercingly  cold.  It 
was  a  cold  that  searched  one  to  the  very  marrow ; 
cold  that  no  clothing  could  protect  one  from. 

A  long  rest  had  to  be  made ;  and  while  Maddie 
and  Leebie  were  glad  to  seek  for  shelter  and  warmth 
among  their  furs  inside  the  palkee,  Wilson  took 
advantage  of  the  halt,  boiled  water  in  a  spirit-lamp, 
and  made  some  beautiful  coffee  with  essence  and 
condensed  milk.  While  they  sip  the  warming  and 
delicious  tin  mugful  which  Wilson  hands  to  each, 
they  talk  of  the  terrible  climb  they  have  had ;  and 
no  wonder  they  shudder  a  little  as  they  think  of  it. 

From  the  rocky  walls  called  Stone  House  I  think 


246  ON   THE   GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN 

I  have  guessed  the  ascent  at  about  one  thousand 
feet.     I  am  told  now  it  is  nearly,  if  not  quite,  double. 

The  glaciers  that  towered  skywards,  precipitous 
walls  of  glittering  ice,  were  really  a  grand  but  awful 
sight. 

But  now  the  long  and  dangerous  descent  to  the 
lake  was  commenced.  It  was  fully  nine  miles  from 
the  summit  of  the  pass,  and  the  greatest  care  had  to 
be  taken  of  the  palkee,  into  which  Maddie  and  Leebie 
had  once  more  tremblingly  ventured.  This  had  in 
reality  to  be  lowered  down  for  a  great  part  of  the  way. 

To  begin  with,  there  was  snow,  but  this  soon  got 
soft  and  slushy. 

I  am  sure  that  during  this  fearful  descent,  Wilson 
was  far  more  anxious  than  the  occupants  of  the 
palkee  themselves.  The  Indians  kept  it  back  with 
ropes  from  behind,  while  others  walked  in  front,  if 
walking  it  could  be  called. 

But  more  than  once  our  hero's  heart  seemed 
almost  to  stand  still  with  dread,  as  the  palkee 
showed  signs  of  taking  charge. 

Had  it  done  so,  or  had  it  once  got  way  on  it,  its 
speed  would  have  increased  every  moment.  No 
power  on  earth  could  have  stayed  its  fearful  rush, 
and  those  above  would  have  had  to  witness  its  com- 
plete destruction  and  the  dashing  to  pieces  on  the 
rocks  of  its  inmates. 

When  they  reached  Crater  Lake  at  last,  it  was  no 
wonder  that  Wilson  breathed  a  heartfelt  prayer  of 
thanks  for  their  safety. 


ON   THE   GRExVT   LAKE-CHAIN  24/ 

Despite  all  danger  and  difficulty,  however,  after 
passing  several  otlier  small  lakes  and  fording  a 
stream  or  two,  Lake  Lindeman  was  reached  well 
on  in  the  afternoon,  and  preparations  at  once  made 
for  going  into  camp  for  a  few  days.  For  a  raft  has 
to  be  built,  so  that  this  delay  is  inevitable. 

It  is  usual  here  for  Indians  to  return,  but  such 
stiong,  hard}',  and  willing  fellows  were  they,  that 
Wilson  determined  to  retain  their  services  for  a 
time.  And  they  made  no  objections,  plenty  of 
'baccy  being  allowed  them,  as  well  as  their  wages. 

Not  far  from  the  spot  where  our  people  rested 
was  another  camp,  a  kind  of  semi-permanent  one  ;  for 
here  not  only  provisions  but  pitch  could  be  bought. 

Well,  this  last  Wilson  believed  would  come  in 
handy,  as  he  looked  forward  to  having  at  least  one 
boat  to  build. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  they  had  still  about 
five  hundred  and  sixty  miles  of  a  journey  before 
them,  ere  they  could  reach,  by  the  chain  of  lakes 
and  by  the  Lewes  River,  which  is  really  the  head 
waters  of  the  Yukon,  the  land  of  gold  they  were 
going  to. 

Just  think  of  it,  reader,  as  you  scan  these  pages 
of  mine !  Nearly  six  hundred  miles  of  one  of  the 
wildest  countries  it  is  possible  to  imagine,  down 
streams,  along  lakes,  through  passes  and  rapids, 
through  gloomy  forests,  where  wild  men  wandered, 
and  wild  beasts  too  !  As  long  this  journey  would  be, 
or  nearl}',  as  from  London  to  Aberdeen ! 


248  ON  THE    GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN 

However,  our  party  had  one  stroke  of  luck  here  at 
"  tent-town,"  —  they  found  a  boat  for  sale.  The 
owner  had  overworked  himself,  taken  ill,  and  died. 

It  is  not  supposed  to  be  lucky  to  sail  in  a  dead 
man's  boat,  but  Wilson  Webb  was  far,  indeed,  from 
being  superstitious,  and  as  the  boat  w^as  a  good  one, 
very  strong  and  newly  pitched,  he  readily  closed 
with  the  offer,  and  so  two  weeks  at  least  were  saved. 

After  they  had  got  over  the  first  fatigue  of  the 
journey,  Maddie  and  Leebie  here  brightened  up  con- 
siderably. 

They  told  Wilson  that  they  did  not  mind  the  rest 
of  the  journey  one  little  bit. 

"I  do  believe,"  said  Wilson,  "  that,  after  all,  women 
are  just  as  brave  as  men,  or  nearly  so." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Maddie,  pouting,  or  pretending 
to,  "and  I  believe  that  they  are  often  much  braver." 

Her  husband  laughed. 

"  I  confess,"  he  said,  "  I  was  in  a  terrible  funk  as 
we  were  descending  the  mountain  —  and  all  for  you 
children." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure,"  said  Leebie,  "  that  neither 
Maddie  nor  I  were  in  the  slightest  degree  afraid.  It 
was  just  a  sort  of  tobogganing,  3-ou  know." 

Wilson  shuddered  a  little. 

It  would  have  been  a  fearful  kind  of  tobogganing, 
he  thought,  had  the  palkee  got  beyond  control. 

One  night  as  our  three  heroes  were  soundly  sleep- 
ing in  their  bags,  a  terrible  "  hallabaloo "  arose. 
Towsie  and  Currie  had  got  hold  of  some  wild  beast 


ON  THE   GREAT  LAKE-CHAIN  249 

or  wild  being,  and  were  doing  their  best  to  tear  it  to 
pieces. 

The  sound  of  worrying  and  tlie  shrieks,  roused 
every  one,  and  Wilson  soon  wriggled  clear  of  his 
sleeping-sack. 

It  was  a  lovely  night,  and  so  far  north  were  they 
that  scarcely  was  it  dark  now.  Anyhow,  there  was 
a  half-full  moon  shininor  clear  in  the  west  and  stars 
twinkling  overhead. 

"Down,  dogs,  down!  Down,  Towsie !  Currie, 
come  here  I  " 

Wilson  M'as  rushing  towards  the  scene  of  conflict 
as  fast  as  he  could. 

"  Oh  I  ah  !  me  deaded.  Me  too  much  deaded,  foh 
true.     Oh  !  ah  !  oh  I  " 

It  was  a  Chilcat  Indian,  and  Wilson  could  see  at 
a  glance  that  he  was  not  sober.  Fact  is,  that  he  had 
crawled  towards  the  utilitv  box,  as  it  was  called, 
broken  it  open,  and  helped  himself  liberally  not  only 
to  rum  but  to  methylated  spirit. 

The  spirit  was  warm  enough,  in  all  conscience,  but 
when  they  found  him,  Towsie  and  Currie  had  made 
it  warmer  for  him  still.  His  compatriots  also  had 
been  roused,  and  forthwith  they  tied  him  to  a  tree  in 
a  very  unceremonious  manner  indeed. 

"  He  a'  righ'  now,  sah,  foh  true,"  said  the  chief ; 
"  to-moUo'  mo'ning  we  squashee  he  ver  goot.    Damn ! " 

I'm  sorry  to  put  so  bad  a  word  in  the  page,  but 
Quilquah  spoke  it  with  such  force  that  down  it  had 
to  go. 


250  ON   THE    GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN 

A  very  wretched  Indian,  indeed,  was  Kanuk  next 
morning  when  dragged  before  his  boss.  He  was 
never  a  beauty,  but  cringing  and  begging  for  mercy, 
he  was  worse-looking  now  than  before.  The  bard  of 
Avon  tells  us  that 

"Sweet  Mercy  is  nobility's  true  badge." 

He  also  tells  us  in  words  as  beautiful  as  any  in  our 
language,  that 

"  It  is  twice  blest : 
It  blesses  hiin  that  gives  and  him  that  takes,"  etc. 

Well,  I  fear  that  Quilquah  had  not  studied  his 
Shakespeare.  Perhaps  it  was  not  to  be  found  in  the 
lending  library  to  which  he  belonged. 

Anyhow,  he  displayed  none  of  the  qualities  of 
mercy  ;  for  Kanuk  was  quickly  tried  and  quickly  con- 
demned, and  the  execution  of  the  sentence  followed 
speedily  after. 

Kanuk  was  hurried  away  into  the  adjoining  wood, 
and  for  the  next  few  minutes,  except  for  the  shrieks 
that  could  be  heard  after  the  sound  of  every  blow, 
one  would  have  thought  there  were  girls  down  there 
beating  carpets. 

Kanuk  was  finally  ordered  to  take  himself  back  at 
once  to  the  coast,  and  his  chief  quietly  requisitioned 
his  pay,  for  liis  own  personal  use. 

But  now  work  began  in  earnest,  and  tlie  making  of 
a  log-raft,  strong  enough  to  stand  a  voyage  down  the 
great  waterway  to  Klondyke,  was  really  no  joke. 

Never  mind,  with  the  assistance  of  the   Indians, 


ON   THE    GREAT  LAKE-CHAIN  25 1 

rough,  sizeable  trees  were  cut  down,  lopped,  and 
carried  down  to  the  water's  edge.  Here  they  were 
piled  up,  until  it  was  believed  that  quite  enough 
were  got  together. 

Then  commenced  the  building  of  the  log-raft. 
Maddie  and  Leebie  said  they  were  sorry  they  could 
not  help,  but  were  assured  by  Wilson  that  they  were 
entirely  mistaken,  as,  if  they  chose,  they  could  materi- 
ally assist. 

"  Oh,  do  tell  us  how  I"  cried  impulsive  Leeb. 

''  Why,  just  b}^  looking  on." 

Well,  log  after  log  was  floated  well  out  and  lashed 
together,  the  first  two  being  anchored. 

It  was  weary  work,  and  wet  work  too,  for  they 
had  to  wade  into  the  water ;  and  although  it  was  sum- 
mer, cold,  indeed,  did  it  feel  in  that  lake. 

The  mosquitoes,  moreover,  gave  them  some  con- 
siderable trouble,  and  Wilson  Webb's  prescription — • 
that  he  had  received  from  the  Doc.  ^  was  in  great 
request. 

AVhen  one  deck  was  built,  another  lot  of  logs  was 
lashed  crosswise  over  it,  and  even  a  third.  It  was 
now  tried,  but  it  was  found  that  when  weighted 
down  with  human  beings,  it  was  still  too  low ;  so  a 
fourth  deck  was  added,  and  when  this  w^as  done,  the 
raft  was  quite  a  serviceable  affair  and,  apparently, 
strong  enougli  to  defy  both  rapids  and  rocks. 

Lake  Lindeman  is  only  five  miles  long,  and  is 
joined  to  Lake  Bennett  by  a  stream  hardly  a  mile  long, 
but  of  very  great  rapidity. 


252  ON  THE   GREAT  LAKE-CHAIN 

Laurie,  with  a  considerable  deal  of  luggage,  one 
Indian,  and  the  two  dogs,  occupied  the  boat.  The 
ladies  were  on  board  the  raft,  with  Wilson  and 
Ernest  and  all  the  rest  of  the  baggage. 

Now  Laurie  would  have  rushed  the  rapids,  if  he 
had  not  been  persuaded  not  to  by  Quilquah.  It 
was  certain  death,  he  assured  him ;  so  the  boat  was 
beached  and  skidded  along  to  the  next  lake  by  the 
Indians. 

Meanwhile  Maddie  and  Leebie  were  told  they  had 
better  land  and  take  their  places  in  the  boat,  as  the 
danger  of  an  accident  was  very  real. 

Ernest  and  Wilson  had  poles,  it  is  true,  but  so  fear- 
ful was  the  speed  of  the  tumbling  stream  that  steer- 
ing was  very  difficult  indeed. 

They  refused  to  go  on  shore,  however,  and  soon 
the  raft  takes  the  plunge,  with  a  rapidity,  too,  that 
makes  ever}^  one's  head  whirl. 

"  Hold  fast,  Maddie  !  Hold  fast,  Leebie  !  "  shouted 
Wilson. 

He  struck  at  a  boulder  here  and  a  boulder  there, 
as  she  went  dashing  on. 

It  seemed  for  a  time  that  nothing  could  save  her, 
and  when  she  struck  a  submerged  rock,  from  which 
the  water  immediately  lifted  her  off.  however,  she 
shook  and  trembled  like  —  as  Ernest  afterwards 
graphically  expressed  it  —  an  old  clothes-basket. 
Wilson  expected  that  she  would  go  to  pieces. 

But  thanks  to  her  sturdy  build,  she  did  not,  and 
in   a   wonderfully  short  time  she    was  rushed    into 


ON   THE   GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN  253 

Lake  Bennett  itself.  Here  the  raft  turned  round 
and  round,  like  a  tee-totum,  giving  those  on  board  a 
kind  of  circular  panorama  of  the  wild  scenery  around, 
that  was  somewhat  confusino-  to  behold. 

This  Lake  Bennett  is  the  first  of  the  chain  of  such 
sheets  of  water,  joined  together  by  streams  much  in 
the  same  way  that  the  great  Caledonian  chain  of 
locks  is  by  its  canals.  We  have  first  the  Naves  Lake, 
then  what  is  called  the  Windy  Sleeve,  or  Windy  Arm, 
of  Lake  Tugish,  then  the  real  Lake  Tugish,  and  fol- 
lowing this,  Mud  Lake,  sometimes  called  Lake  Marsh. 

Now  this  chain  of  lakes,  with  its  connecting  streams, 
is  called  the  "still-water  route."  This  is  certainly 
misleading,  for  our  party  found  the  water  very  far, 
indeed,  from  being  still;  only  there  were  no  cataracts. 

But  terrific  squalls  were  at  times  encountered,  and 
twice  the  boat  in  which  Laurie  was  had  been  all  but 
capsized,  very  much  to  the  terror  of  Maddie  and 
Leebie  on  the  raft.  Had  she  gone  down,  he  would 
have  been  drowned  before  their  eyes.  But  their  own 
danger  was  considerable,  although  they  seemed  to 
think  little,  if  anything,  about  this.  Even  to  run  on 
shore  on  the  muddy  edge  of  a  lake,  would  have  de- 
layed the  journey  for  weeks. 

The  distance  from  the  head  of  Lake  Bennett  to  the 
lower  end  of  INIud  Lake  is  about  seventy-three  miles, 
and  danger  threatening  the  party  all  the  way.  Li 
fact,  owing  to  the  suddenness  with  which  dirty 
weather  or  squalls  may  come  up,  one  can  never  feel 
safe  on  this  lake-chain. 


254  O^  THE   GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN 

But  at  long,  long  last  tliey  are  out  of  Mud  Lake 
itself,  and  have  entered  the  river  Lewes. 

On  they  sweep ;  somewhat  more  cheerily  now. 

Oh!  but  I  do  not  want  to  give  a  wrong  impression, 
and  must  admit  that  they  were  cheery  most  of  the 
time ;  and  when  the  weather  was  fine,  when  it  was 
all  plain  sailing,  as  it  were,  many  a  capital  song  was 
started  by  Wilson,  —  rolling  sea  or  boating  songs,  as 
a  rule,  that  well  suited  the  scenery  and  the  occasion. 
Maddie  and  Leebie  never  failed  to  chime  in  with 
their  sweet,  girlish  voices,  and  Laurie  himself  drew 
nearer  to  the  raft,  that  he,  too,  might  join. 

For,  gliding  on  and  on  like  this,  in  boat  and  raft, 
might  be  compared  to  sailing  through  life's  stream 
itself.  On  that  stream  all  our  boats  are  floatins:,  at 
present.  We  may  not  know,  clearly,  where  we  are 
sailing  to,  and  storms  may  often  arise,  but  we  are 
happy,  most  of  the  time,  and  we  are  steering  all  the 
time  by  a  star. 

The  name  of  that  star  is  Hope. 

The  Indians  that  Wilson  had  still  with  him  were 
now  only  two ;  the  rest  were  paid  off,  and  had  gone 
back.  One  was  with  Laurie ;  the  other,  Quilquah 
himself,  was  acting  as  guide  on  board  the  raft. 

"Now  that  the  lakes  are  all  behind  us,"  said 
Maddie,  "  I  am  sure,  Quilquah,  our  danger  is  all  over." 

"  The  twoof  [truth]  I  talkee,  Missie  Maddie.  Big 
lie  all  samee  debbil.  No  muchee  goot.  We  come 
plenty  quick,  now,  to  Pale  Hoss  Rapids.  No  fear, 
Quilquah  plopah  guide,  foh  twoo  [true]." 


ON   THE    GREAT   LAKE-CHAIN  255 

The  rapids  the  chief  referred  to  were  those  about 
four  and  twenty  miles  down-stream  from  ]\Iud  Lake, 
at  a  place  called  Miles  C'aiion. 

And  the  danger  in  rushing  the  stream  here  is  very 
great  indeed. 

It  is  a  case  of  minutes  only,  however,  and  is  a 
great  saving  in  time. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Wilson  Webb's  heart 
beat  high  with  anxiety,  as  he  neared  the  cauon. 
Ernest  crept  nearer  to  Leebie,  as  if  to  protect  her. 

Laurie  himself,  in  his  sturdy  boat,  showed  the  way. 
He  kept  to  the  right,  and  was  soon  dashing  on,  and 
out  of  sight. 

More  slowly  did  the  raft  glide  now. 

But  soon  they  are  entering  the  fierce  and  awful 
current,  that  has  swept  so  many  brave  fellows  to 
death  and  doom. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

AT   HOME   IN    KLONDYKE  —  A   BEAR   ADVENTURE 

"  Oh,  I  hae  seen  great  anes,  and  sat  in  great  ha's, 
Mang  lords  and  maiig  ladies,  a'  covered  wi'  braws; 
But  a  sight  so  delightful,  I  trow,  I  ne'er  spied 
As  the  bonnie  blithe  blink  o'  my  ain  fireside."  —  Burns. 

Although  considerably  short  of  a  mile  in  length, 
Miles  Canon  is,  without  doubt,  a  dangerous  and  fear- 
ful rapid. 

The  mountains  here  rise  up  into  precipitous  cliffs, 
forming  a  gorge  or  cailon,  so  that  the  river  is  nar- 
rowed till  it  is  scarcely  fifty  feet  from  side  to  side ; 
although  above  the  dreaded  rapids,  it  has  a  breadth 
of  fully  four  hundred  yards.  The  rocks  at  each  side 
are  dark  and  perpendicular.  With  the  terrible  sj^eed 
on  boat,  or  raft,  even  to  touch  these  fearful  walls 
would  mean  destruction. 

It  takes  but  five  or  six  minutes  to  sweep  through, 
but  these  seem  hours,  so  great  and  fearful  is  the 
tension  on  one's  nerves. 

Right  in  the  centre,  or  half-way  down,  is  the 
White  Horse  Rapid,  so  called  because  the  stream 
widens  somewhat  here,  and  is  tossed  back  again,  in 
froth   and   foam,  from  the  narrow  entrance  to  the 

256 


AT   HOME   IN   KLONDYKE  257 

second  part  of  the  canon,  giving  a  fanciful  resem- 
blance to  the  mane  of  a  wild  horse.  The  foam  is 
increased  from  the  fact  that  the  water  dashes  and 
curls  around  and  over  boulders,  with  a  noise  that  is 
confusing,  deafening. 

Wilson  will  always  believe,  as  long  as  he  lives, 
that  but  for  his  forethought  in  taking  the  Indian 
"boss"'  with  him,  he  never  could  have  safely  rushed 
these  rapids. 

Nor  do  I  think  he  would  attempt  to  do  so  again, 
with  his  wife  on  board,  for  all  the  gold  in  Klondyke. 
***** 

But  both  boat  and  raft  are  out  into  the  broad  river 
at  last,  safe  and  sound. 

To  say  that  Wilson  was  grateful  and  thankful  to 
God,  would  hardly  describe  correctly  the  state  of  his 
feelings.  For  some  time,  indeed,  he  would  not  have 
trusted  himself  to  speak  for  a  good  deal,  nor  to 
glance  round  at  his  wife  and  Leebie.  He  just  kept 
gazing  ahead.     Then  he  waved  his  hand  to  Laurie. 

But  as  soon  as  he  could  swallow  the  big  lump  in 
his  throat,  he  turned  to  iNIaddie,  and  said  with 
assumed  carelessness :  — 

"  You  weren't  afraid,  were  you  ?  " 

"  Just  a  little,  this  time." 

"  xVnd  you,  Leebie  ?  " 

The  girl's  eyes  were  overflowing  with  tears,  and 
when  Ernest  patted  her  hand,  down  they  came  fast 
enough.  She  made  no  attempt  to  hide  those 
tears. 


258  AT   HOME   IN   KLONDYKE 

"  I'm  SO  glad,"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  Laurie  is 
safe.  I  thought — -oh,  I  thouglit  we  might  pass  his 
boat  all  smashed,  and  poor  Laurie  —  " 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  face,  now,  as  if  to  shut 
out  the  terrible,  though  imaginary,  picture. 

Well,  the  rest  of  the  voyage  was  comparatively 
safe  and  easy ;  but  they  encountered  more  than  one 
squall ;  and  one  rapid,  also,  had  to  be  negotiated,  but 
after  their  fearful  experience  at  Miles  Canon,  it  gave 
them  but  little  concern. 

Dawson  City  —  and  crowds  rush  down  to  meet 
them,  to  welcome  Wilson  back  again,  and  wish  the 
newcomers  luck  and  joy. 

Even  Towsie  and  Currie  had  a  part  in  that  hearty 
welcome ;  and  when  they  got  their  feet  on  shore 
I  feel  quite  certain  that  there  were  not  two  happier 
dogs  in  Dawson  City. 

Well,  in  a  place  like  this,  with  an  ever-fluctuating 
population,  one  need  hardly  be  surprised  at  anything 
that  may  happen,  even  in  a  few  months'  time. 

Wilson  Webb,  therefore,  was  not  astonished  at  all 
when  among  the  first  to  greet  him  was  Mr.  Grim- 
shaw  himself,  "  the  old  man  miner."  He  was  look- 
ing very  happy  and  jolly,  indeed. 

"  We  saw  you  coming  down,"  he  said,  "  and  my 
wife  set  about  getting  everything  ready  to  receive 
you." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  answered  Wilson,  "I  am, 
indeed,  pleased  to  meet  you.  It  is  so  unexpected, 
but,  on  the  whole,  so  delightful.     Now  let  me  intro- 


AT   HOME   IN    KLONDYKE  259 

duce  you  to  my  wife  and  friends.  We  must  not 
stop  a  day,  however."' 

"  Nonsense,  Wilson  Webb  I  nonsense  I  The  boat 
will  be  in  shortly  and  all  your  stuff.  Remember 
you  wrote  and  told  me." 

''Yes." 

"  Well,  she  isn't  far  down-stream.  Come  on, 
ladies;  bring  the  dogs  and  all. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  as  they  walked  towards  a 
snug  little  bungalow  on  the  outskirts,  "me  and  my 
missus  are  done  with  Klondyke.  We've  done  well 
since  you  left,  and  we've  enough  money  now  to  set 
up  house  again  in  Chicago  and  keep  finer  horses 
than  ever.  Ah  I  lad,  it  will  be  our  turn  now,  and 
I  mean  to  make  those  pig-stickers,  who  turned  their 
backs  on  us  because  we  were  poor,  sit  up.  You  bet ! 
Ha  I  here  comes  Mrs.  Grimshaw  to  meet  us." 

"  And  young  John?  "  Wilson  inquired  when  they 
had  all  got  seated. 

"  Oh,  he's  up-stream.  Claim  is  working  fine  again, 
and  John  will  keep  it  on." 

"  And  the  Doc.  and  his  wife  ?" 

"  Eh  !  dear,  dear,"  said  Grimshaw,  sadly  ;  "  now  you 
liave  struck  a  hard  pan,  ni}-  bo}^  Oh,  what  a  weary 
world  it  is  at  best !  But  why  doesn't  death  take  the 
old  ones  and  spare  the  young  and  the  beautiful  ?  " 

"  Death  !    You  don't  mean  to  say  —  " 

"  But  I  do.  Poor  Mrs.  Debrett  is  buried  not  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  where  we  sit.  It  was  a  terri- 
ble thing,  and  cast  a  srloom  over  the  whole  of  Dawson 


26o  AT   HOME   Ds    KLONDYKE 

City.  An  accident,  you  know,  and  it  happened  not 
over  a  mouth  ago. 

'•You  remember  the  lad  Jackie  that  she  be- 
friended?" 

"  I  do  right  well." 

"  He  is  dead  too.  Died  a  hero's  death,  poor  fellow. 
You  see  the  Doc.  was  away  for  a  day  or  two,  pros- 
pecting. He  always  was  restless,  and,  as  usual  on 
such  occasions,  Jackie  slept  in  a  tub  among  straw  not 
far  from  Mrs.  Debrett's  log-hut  door.  He  used  to 
pride  himself  in  being  her  guard  and  sentry.  Well, 
one  dark  night  Jackie  was  awakened  by  a  wild,  ter- 
rified shriek,  and  could  see  at  once  that  the  log-hut 
was  in  flames.  He  blew  a  shrill  whistle  he  carried, 
to  alarm  the  miners  in  the  neighlx)urhood,  and  soon 
they  came  rushing  towards  the  hut,  to  render  assist- 
ance if  they  could. 

"They  found  Jackie  wild  with  orief  and  dashingr 
himself  against  the  door,  which,  being  lx)lted  within, 
all  his  strength  could  not  force  open. 

'*  •  Oh,  my  poor,  dear  mistress ! '  Jackie  was  cry- 
ing ;  '  so  kind  and  gentle,  so  good  to  wicked  me  ! ' 

"A  few  blows  from  a  pickaxe  were  sufficient  to 
burst  in  the  door,  but  a  gush  of  flames  and  black 
smoke  sent  them  reeling  back. 

"  Jackie,  however,  did  not  retreat.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  made  a  dash  and  a  rush  for  the  doorway. 

'•  Heigho  !  he  was  never  seen  alive  again.  The 
hut  —  which  they  think  had  been  set  on  fire  from 
the  explosion  of  an  oil  lamp  —  was  soon  a  heap  of 


AT  HOME   IN   KLONDYKE  261 

hot  cinders,  and  in  the  early  dawn  the  bodies  of  botli 
Mrs.  Debrett  and  Jackie,  sadly  charred,  were  dragged 
from  the  ruin. 

"  From  the  position  in  which  Jackie  lay,  it  was  evi- 
dent he  liad  made  an  attempt  to  drag  the  poor  lady 
to  the  doorway,  and  had  fallen  dead  over  her  body." 

"And  ni}^  poor,  brave  friend,  the  doctor?"  said 
Wilson.     "  Oh,  I  dread  to  ask  about  him  I" 

"  He  —  he  is  gone." 

"Dead,  too?" 

"  Nay,  lad,  'tis  worse  than  death.  His  mind  has 
given  way.  As  often  as  not  he  is  wandering  among 
the  woods  and  glens.  No  one  knows  how  he  lives, 
or  what  he  subsists  on.  Only  now  and  then  he 
appears  in  camp  to  tell  of  wonderful  gold  finds  in 
some  creek  or  other,  which  has  no  existence  save  in 
his  dazed  and  darkened  brain.  But  it  is  sad  to  hear 
him  sit  by  a  log-fire  among  the  miners  and  tell  of 
the  treasures  he  is  going  to  carry  back  with  him  to 
far-off  San  Francisco,  where  he  thinks  he  has  left  his 
wife." 

"Heighol"  sighed  Wilson;  "that  is,  indeed,  bad 
news." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Debrett,"  said  Grimshaw,  solemnly ; 
"there  is  some  consolation  in  thinking  that  she 
could  not  have  suffered  long,  nor  could  she  have 
suffered  much.     And  we  have  all  to  die." 

This  was  Grimshaw's  philosophy. 

Well,  in  a  place  like  Dawson  City  even  tragedy 
itself  makes  but  little  lasting  impression  on  people's 


262  AT   HOME   IN   KLONDYKE 

minds,  and  Mrs.  Debrett  and  her  husband  also  were 
soon  forgotten. 

Not  by  Wilson  Webb,  however ;  for  the  Doc.  and 
he  had  been  very  great  friends,  indeed. 

But  even  now  Wilson  was  not  without  some  hope. 
No  springtime,  it  is  true,  can  e'er  revive  the  ashes  of 
the  urn.  Yet  the  Doc.  might  get  well ;  that  was  the 
thought  which  helped  to  cheer  our  chief  hero  wlien 
he  at  last  settled  down  with  his  friends  in  Klondyke. 

There  is  nothing  like  work  for  curing  worry,  noth- 
ing like  work  for  banishing  grief  and  care,  and  now 
commenced  a  season  of  the  hardest  toil  that  ever 
Wilson  had  known. 

And  not  only  for  him,  but  for  Ernest  and  Laurie 
too. 

All  his  traps  and  provisions,  which  Wilson  had 
shij^ped  at  'Frisco;  had  arrived  safe  and  sound,  and 
were  stored  partly  in  a  hut  built  specially  for  them, 
and  closely  adjoining  the  three-roomed  mansion,  as 
it  was  called,  and  partly  in  a  cache. 

But  there  was  a  vacated  hut  to  spare.  This  now 
belonged  by  rights  to  sturdy  young  John,  because  it 
was  that  in  which  his  parents  had  dwelt.  He  himself 
preferred  occupying  the  one-roomed  shanty  he  had 
built  himself,  and  so  the  boys,  as  they  were  usually 
called,  were  permitted  to  take  up  their  quarters  in 
the  other. 

Ernest  had  the  good  luck  to  acquire  a  fresh  claim, 
and  not  only  his  but  Laurie's  turned  out  marvel- 
lously well. 


AT   HO^IE   IN   KLOXDYKE  263 

I  have  not  a  stronger  adverb  than  "  marvellously  " 
handy,  else  I  should  use  it,  because  of  all  the  claims 
in  Klondyke  those  belonging  to  the  boys  were  ad- 
mitted to  be  the  best. 

The  brief  but  warm  summer  had  now  worn  to  a 
close,  and  the  mornings  and  evenings  of  the  shorten- 
ing days  Avere  already  keen  and  cold. 

The  work  all  round  went  on  as  merrily  as  ever, 
notwithstanding. 

And  Wilson's  party  were  as  happy  as  any  one  could 
be  in  so  forlorn  a  country,  and  with  the  prospects  of 
a  long,  dreary  winter  before  them. 

The  main  room  in  the  mansion  was  particularly 
cosy  of  an  evening.  It  was  large,  and  the  fire  that 
burned  on  the  low  hearth  would  have  done  any  one's 
heart  good  to  gaze  upon. 

This  hearth  was  a  triumph  of  Wilson's  skill,  en- 
ergy, and  engineering.  It  was  laid  with  stone  ;  there 
was  a  semicircle  of  stone  and  cement  behind  it,  and 
the  smoke  and  sparks  found  their  way  up  a  funnel  and 
into  an  iron  pipe  or  chimney,  so  that  there  was  not 
the  sligfhtest  danger  from  fire. 

How  different  all  this  was  from  the  miserable  little 
iron  stoves  in  other  shanties,  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  conceive  unless  one  had  seen  both. 

Well,  it  was  the  invariable  custom  for  the  boys 
to  drop  in  after  the  evening  meal,  and  join  the 
magic  circle  around  that  cosy  and  homelike  fire- 
place. 

Sometimes  young  John  came  too.     Whether  he  did 


264  AT   HOME   IN   KLONDYKE 

or  did  not,  his  seat  and  his  corner  were  always 
reserved  for  him. 

How  were  the  evenings  spent  ?  Well,  Wilson  liim- 
self,  being  the  oldest,  was  relegated  to  the  easy-chair, 
and  it  was  pleasant,  indeed,  to  see  him  sitting  there 
listening  to  the  merry  conversation,  and  occasionally 
taking  his  pipe  from  his  lips  and  joining  in.  Some- 
times Maddie,  his  wife,  would  bring  the  violin  and 
place  it  in  his  hands,  and  however  tired  he  might  be, 
he  never  refused  to  play  when  she  told  him  to. 

Yes ;  the  boys  would  be  tired  of  an  evening,  but  I 
wish  to  inform  all  whom  it  may  concern,  that  there 
are  two  species  of  tiredness,  — the  nervous  kind  and 
the  muscular.  The  first  is  far  from  agreeable ;  but 
rest  soothes  the  latter,  and  this  kind  of  tiredness  is 
really  rather  pleasant  than  otherwise. 

Well,  "  the  girls  "  always  liad  knitting  and  sewing 
to  attend  to  of  an  evening,  so  until  the  early  bedtime 

"The  time  flew  by  wi'  tentless  heed." 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  everybody  was  as 
fresh  as  a  mountain  trout  of  a  morning.  And  every- 
body had  an  excellent  appetite  too. 

The  days  got  shorter.  But  Ernest  and  Laurie 
continued  to  have  their  morning  swim,  and  they 
determined  to  keep  it  up  until  they  should  be  frozen 
out  of  the  river. 

This  river  or  stream  was  several  hundred  yards 
away  from  their  shanty ;  so  after  getting  up  and  light- 
ing the  stove,  in  scanty  attire  they  ran  all  the  way 


AT  HOME   IN   KLONDYKE  265 

to  their  bathing-pool,  and  quickly  undressing,  plunged 
in. 

The  glorious  feeling  of  exhilaration  which  they  ex- 
perienced after  five  or  ten  minutes  of  splashing  and 
swimming,  was  worth  a  king's  ransom.  This  last  is 
merely  a  figure  of  speech ;  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
have  no  idea  what  a  king's  ransom  is,  though  some 
of  the  kings  we  read  of  in  history,  would  have  been 
precious  dear  at  any  price. 

But  early  one  morning,  the  two  boys  had  a  very 
strange  adventure,  indeed.  Though  it  had  its  hu- 
morous side,  it  was  none  the  less  alarming. 

The  water  on  this  particular  morning  was  consid- 
erably colder  than  usual ;  for  a  high,  nor'land  wind 
was  raging  through  the  spur  of  the  forest,  in  which 
their  swimming-pool  in  the  river  lay. 

It  wanted  nearly  an  hour  to  sunrise,  but  dawn  was 
already  spreading  up  in  the  east.  The  clouds  banked 
alonfT  the  horizon  in  the  middle  distance  were  dark 
and  grey,  but  fringed  with  silver,  while  those  far,  far 
behind  them  were  aglow  with  gold  and  crimson. 

"I  say,  Ernest,"  said  Laurie,  "I'm  going  on  shore. 
It  is  too  cold  for  a  long  swim." 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  come  with  you.  You  are  all 
over  as  red  as  a  boiled  lobster." 

"Am  I?     And  do  you  know  what  you're  like?" 

"No." 

"  Why,  like  a  raw  one,  and  that  is  worse." 

"  Wo-ah-rr-rr-wo-o-0-0 !  " 

That  line  is  really  meant  for  music.     I  could  not 


266  AT    HOME    IN    KLONDYKE 

write  it  in  any  other  way.  But  I  wish  it  to  convey 
the  sound  of  that  grizzly  bear's  awful  voice,  as  he 
stood  on  the  banks  of  the  stream,  impatiently  waiting 
for  his  breakfast  to  land. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  breakfast  off  Ernest 
and  Laurie,  the  boiled  lobster  and  the  raw  one,  and 
it  was  perfectly  immaterial  to  him  which  he  began  on 
first. 

"  Oh,  Laurie,  look,  look  I  " 

"Oh,  Ernie!  Back,  back!  Let  us  swim  down- 
stream." 

Truth  to  tell,  they  were  both  almost  paralysed  with 
fear,  for  as  they  swam  the  ferocious  monster — the 
first  seen  this  season  —  walked  alongside  the  bank. 

Perhaps  he  was  not  famishing  with  hunger,  or  he 
thought  the  water  too  cold  to  hazard  a  spring. 
Thouofh  he  crouched  more  than  once  as  if  about 
to  leap,  he  refrained. 

How  the  adventure  would  have  ended  had  not 
help  been  most  unexpectedly  at  hand,  I  cannot  say. 
Sir  Duncan  Currie  generally  went  Avith  the  boys  for 
a  swim.  On  this  particular  morning,  however,  he 
had  overslept  his  little  self,  and  was  late.  When 
he  dashed  up  to  the  stream  at  last,  he  took  in  the 
situation  at  a  glance,  and  went  straight  for  the  heels 
of  the  grizzly,  biting  as  hard  as  he  knew  how  to. 

With  an  angry  roar,  the  brute  wheeled  and  tried 
to  strike  the  wiry,  wee  terrier  with  a  paw.  But  the 
doggy  kept  out  of  his  reach,  only  whenever  Bruin 
faced  towards  the  river,  he  renewed  the  attack. 


HE   WENT    STRAIGHT    FOR    THE    HEELS    OF   THE   GRIZZLY. 


AT   HOME    IN   KLONDYKE  26/ 

This  continued  for  many  minutes,  till  the  grizzly 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  and,  grumbling  and  growl- 
inof,  made  off  towards  the  hills. 

An  Aberdeen  terrier  chasing  a  bear ! 

It  may  be  strange,  but  it  happens  to  be  fact ! 

The  boys  did  not  stop  to  dress.  They  gathered 
up  their  clothes  and  fled  back  towards  the  village ; 
and  as  they  rushed  madly  past  some  miners  going 
early  to  work  at  their  claims,  the  astonishment  of 
the  men  may  easily  be  imagined. 

The  sun  soon  rose,  and  shone  very  brightly  down 
on  hill  and  dell  and  Avoodland  wild. 

Little  Currie  had  come  back  safe  and  sound,  but 
all  excitement.  He  seemed  to  tell  the  boys  that  he 
knew  where  Bruin  had  gone  to  cover. 

When  Wilson  heard  of  the  adventure,  his  very 
eyes  sparkled  with  joy. 

"  Come  on,  lads !  Get  your  guns !  Come,  Currie ! 
A  bear's  ham  is  an  excellent  change  of  diet." 

"Wowff!"  barked  Currie. 

And  so  the  hunt  started. 

Two  hours  after  this,  the  bear  was  bagged. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  DAY  WILL  SOON  BE  ON  THE  TURN 

"  Stormy  winter's  come  at  last, 

With  winds  and  clouds  and  changing  skies  ; 
I  hear  the  rushing  of  the  blast 

That  through  the  snowy  valley  flies."  —  Bryant. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  Wilson,  an  evening  or  two 
after  this,  as  he  laid  down  his  violin,  "I  believe  I 
am  still  boss  of  the  show." 

"Oh,  yes." 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  exercise  my  authority.  We 
have  been  here,  now,  a  whole  month,  and  our  claims 
have  all  panned  out  sj^lendidly,  and  I  have  taken 
over  the  poor  doctor's,  for  he  can  never  dig  again,  I 
fear.  But,  anyhow,  you  youngsters  are  working  fai- 
too  hard,  and  —  look  here  —  harder  than  j-ou  need  to." 

"  Oh,  Wilson,"  cried  Ernest,  "  we  want  to  make 
a  pile,  you  know ;  and,  really,  the  excitement  is  very 
great ! " 

"True,  old  man,  and  excitement  kills,  as  sure  as 
you  are  alive  at  present.  If  you  go  tearing  on  as  you 
are  now  doing,  for  six  weeks  longer,  you'll  be  down 
with  fever,  and  won't  have  strength  enough  to  fight 
it." 

"Well,  what  would  you  have  us  do?" 
268 


THE   DAY   WILL   SOON   BE   ON  THE   TURN       269 

"Why,  give  yourselves  two  good  hours'  rest  a 
day." 

"  What,  sit  down  and  whittle  sticks  and  whistle  ?  " 

"No,  lad,  not  that;  but  shoulder  j'our  guns  and 
your  fishing-gear  and  be  off  to  the  hills  and  the 
glens.  We  want  fish ;  we  want  more  bear  meat. 
Old  hands  tell  us  it  is  going  to  be  a  hard  winter ; 
and  so,  while  keeping  up  your  health  and  strength, 
getting  good  fun  and  excellent  sport,  you  will  have 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  you  are  filling  the 
larder," 

"  What  say  you,  Laurie  ?  "  said  Ernest. 

"  I'll  go  like  a  shot." 

"  So  will  I." 

And  so  a  series  of  almost  daily  hunting  and  fishing 
expeditions  were  inaugurated  and  kept  up,  too,  until 
the  eai-ly  winter  had  fairly  set  in.  Then  they  had 
to  be  abandoned. 

But  not  before  our  young  heroes  had  encountered 
one  or  two  thrilling  adventures  that  they  were  not 
likely  to  forget. 

On  these  expeditions  that  poor  little  dear,  wee, 
rough-coated  t3'ke  Currie  was  their  constant  com- 
panion. 

"  I  feel  it  my  duty,"  he  seemed  to  sa}^  "  to  look 
after  you  with  so  much  danger  about.  Where  would 
you  be  now,  I  wonder,  if  I  had  not  destroyed  that 
terrible  bear  ?  " 

Yes,  Currie  was  really  convinced  that  he  alone  had 
slain  the  grizzly. 


2/0       THE   DAY   AVILL   SOON   BE   ON  THE   TURN 

But,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  the  bob- 
tailed  Towsie  preferred  remaining  in  camp.  Perhaps 
he  thought  that  there  were  bad  characters  about,  and 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  protect  his  mistress. 

Well,  while  the  young  fellows  were  fishing,  Currie 
used  to  be  romping  through  the  bush,  doing  a  bit 
of  mink  or  wolverene  hunting  on  his  own  account, 
and  refreshing  himself  now  and  then  with  a  feed  of 
raspberries. 

One  day  while  the  terrier  was  away  on  the  war- 
path—  he  could  be  heard  yap-yapping  in  the  dis- 
tance every  now  and  then  —  and  the  boys  were 
fishing,  with  such  success  that  they  were  actually 
covering  the  banks  with  living,  leaping  mountain 
trout,  all  at  once,  to  their  no  small  consternation, 
a  huge  black  bear  put  in  an  appearance  on  the  scene. 

My  own  experience  of  bears  has  been  chiefly  among 
the  large  Arctic  species,  and  I  have  had  one  or  two 
narrow  "  squeaks  " ;  but  I  have  noticed  that  when 
a  bear  is  very  self-possessed  he  feels  sure  of  his  prey, 
whether  it  be  a  man  or  a  seal.  ^ 

Well,  this  particular  bear  did  not  seem  put  out  in 
the  slightest  degree. 

There  was  a  cunning  leer  on  his  crafty  face,  and 
I'm  sure  he  would  have  spoken  somewhat  as  follows 
could  he  have  spoken  at  all :  — 

1  In  the  Arctic  regions  once  we  had  a  little  ragamuffin  of  a  dog 
who  used  to  chase  the  white  bears.  He  could  do  them  no  harm,  but 
by  biting  at  their  heels  he  delayed  their  progress,  and  this  enabled 
the  rifles  to  get  near  enough.  We  called  him  "Brick,  the  bear 
hound."  — G.  S. 


THE   DAY   WILL   SOON   BE   ON   THE   TURN       2/1 

"Hillo,  lads!  Hill-1-lo !  WI13',  this  is  quite  a 
pleasant  surprise  I  Fishing,  eh  ?  Well,  I've  just 
been  doing  a  little  of  that  myself,  farther  up-stream. 
I've  swallowed  about  two  dozen,  but  la !  what  is  that 
to  a  healthy  young  fellow  like  me.  But  don't  let  me 
disturb  you  ! " 

He  had  lain  down  to  watch  them,  as  a  cat  watches 
a  mouse. 

'•  I  thought,  you  know,"  he  went  on,  "that  a  bit  o' 
fresh  meat  would  help  to  make  up  a  dinner  for  me ; 
so,  as  soon  as  I  got  scent  of  you,  I  just  came  along." 

Both  boj-s  were  almost  paralysed  with  fear,  for  a 
time.  They  had  left  their  rifles,  foolishly  enough, 
far  down-stream. 

But  they  determined  to  sell  their  lives  dearly,  and 
defend  themselves  with  their  fishing-rods. 

It  was  pretty  evident  that  Mr.  Bruin  could  not 
make  up  his  mind,  as  to  which  he  should  spring 
upon  first. 

The  delay  enabled  both  to  recover  self-possession. 
Laurie  suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  in  his 
pocket  a  very  large  and  shrill  dog-whistle,  and  a 
happy  thought  occurred  to  him. 

"  Ernest,"  he  said,  '•  slip  off  your  coat  quietly,  and 
when  I  give  a  startling  whistle,  whoop  as  loudly  as 
you  can,  wave  the  jacket,  and  rush  towards  the  brute." 

"Well,"  thought  Ernest,  "it  is  death  an^-how,  I 
daresay."     So  off  came  the  coat. 

"Aren't  ye  afraid  of  catching  cold?"  Bruin 
seemed  to  say. 


2/2       THE   DAY   WILL   SOON   BE   ON   THE   TURN 

"Are  you  ready,  Ernest?" 

"  Ready,  aye,  ready." 

Whew-w-w  !  went  the  whistle. 

In  Bruin's  ears  it  was  startling  in  the  extreme ; 
but  when  the  jacket  was  waved,  and  both  boys 
advanced  with  a  wild  whoop,  his  nerves  couldn't 
stand  it  a  moment  longer. 

He  wheeled  and  bolted. 

Then  a  new  actor  came  rushing  on  the  stage. 

And  this  was  Currie  himself. 

"  Let  us  run  for  the  rifles,"  cried  Laurie. 

And  run  they  did. 

They  could  still  hear  Currie  barking  and  yelping 
at  Bruin's  heels,  so  they  hurried  on  in  chase.  To 
their  horror,  just  as  they  were  within  gunshot,  the 
bear  wheeled  so  suddenly  that  he  downed  poor  Cur- 
rie, and  lay  on  top  of  him. 

Never  had  Laurie  fired  a  shot  with  more  caution. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  he  was  cool  the  while. 

The  bullet  struck  the  monster  on  the  left  shoul- 
der. He  started  to  his  feet  Avith  a  coughing  roar, 
spitting  blood  and  froth,  then  —  he  fell  on  his  side, 
dead. 

But  the  strangest  thing  of  all  was  this  :  Sir  Duncan 
Currie  did  not  appear  a  single  bit  the  worse. 

He  looked  a  little  dazed,  but  soon  recovered  even 
from  that. 

"I  killed  that  bear  in  fine  style,  didn't  I?"  he 
seemed  to  say  as  he  trotted  up  to  Laurie,  laughing 
apparently  all  the  way  down  both  sides. 


THE   DAY   WnX   SOON  BE   OX  THE   TURN       2/3 

Laurie  took  him  up  in  his  arms  and  kissed  his 
heatheiy  brow,  a  dozen  times  over. 

"  My  dear  wee  friend,"  he  cried,  "  what  should  we 
do  without  you  ?  " 

"What,  indeed?"  thought  Currie,  though  he  did 
not  say  so. 

Anj-how  that  black  bear  when  it  w-as  got  home 
made  a  very  welcome  addition  to  the  larder.  As 
did  the  fish  also. 

But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  little  party  of 
five  or  six  could  make  away  with  a  large  animal  like 
a  bear,  even  in  winter  time  when  appetites  were 
wholesome  and  meat  kept  long.  No,  but  there  were 
many  men  not  very  far  off  who  had  been  unfortu- 
nate, and  were  already  beginning  to  feel  the  pinch 
of  hunger,  and  to  these  a  portion  of  that  meat  was, 
indeed,  a  much-prized  present. 

Now  I  am  anxious  to  give  the  gold  fields  of  K Ion- 
dyke  all  their  due,  as  well  as  the  brave  fellows  Avho 
worked  there,  and  for  aught  I  know  do  still  work 
there ;  yet  it  would  be  far  less  than  my  duty  as  a 
writer  of  books  that  are  meant  not  only  to  amuse, 
but  to  convey  a  little  information,  were  I  to  leave 
the  reader  with  the  impression  that  every  one  who 
goes  to  Klondyke  is  bound  to  gather  wealth. 

Klondyke  has  been  the  ruin  of  man}-  of  those  who 
were  even  able  and  willing  to  work  and  struggle. 

For  several  sorts  of  reasons  they  have  simply  been 
unsuccessful.  They  have  drawn  blanks  as  regarded 
their  claims;    they  have  lacked   patience  and  long 


2/4       THE   DAY   WILL   SOOX   BE   ON  THE   TURN 

endurance ;  they  have  not  come  provided  with  the 
proper  necessaries  of  life,  and  so  have  starved  first, 
and  broken  down  afterwards. 

There  are  many  of  such  men  in  Dawson  City, — 
some  of  them  gentlemen's  sons,  who  have  gradually 
degenerated  into  hangers  around  bars  or  the  dancing- 
saloons,  and  loafers. 

Ah,  me  I  it  is  bad  enough  to  be  poor  in  any  city, 
but  to  be  in  a  town  like  Dawson,  and  not  to  know 
where  to  turn  for  a  dollar,  or  not  to  know  when 
eating  one  meal,  where  the  next  is  to  come  from,  is 
pitiable  indeed. 

Still,  many  who  went  to  the  mines  had  no  sand  in 
them,  as  the  Yankees  expressively  say ;  they  were 
from  the  first  inclined  to  loaf  and  be  idle,  and  per- 
haps addicted  to  drink.  How  could  such  as  these 
expect  to  get  on  ? 

Crime  is  hardly  known  high  up  in  El  Dorado,  but 
once  Laurie's  little  Currie  guided  his  master  to  a 
gloomy  spruce  copse,  some  distance  down  a  wood. 
For  a  time,  although  armed  with  his  rifle  and  Ernest 
not  far  away,  he  hesitated  to  enter  that  dark  thicket. 

It  was  evidently  no  live  beast,  however ;  for  the 
wise  little  dog,  instead  of  showing  excitement,  sat 
down  on  his  haunches,  lifted  his  chin  high  in  air, 
pursed  his  lips,  and  howled  most  piteously. 

Then  Laurie  knocked  aside  the  branches  and 
crept  in. 

There  lay  a  man  on  his  back  —  dead. 

His   sightless   eyes   were    turned    upwards;   there 


THE   DAY   WILL   SOON  BE   ON  THE   TURN       275 

was  a  large  brown  patcli  on  the  ground,  made  bj  the 
blood  that  had  poured  from  a  wound  beneath  the 
ear,  and  his  right  hand  still  grasped  the  revolver 
with  which  the  deed  had  been  done. 

An  unsuccessful  miner !  Ah  I  no  one  could  tell 
his  sad  story.  None  here  knew  what  his  home  life 
had  been.  But  on  his  left  hand  was  a  diamond  ring, 
and  beside  it  a  ring  of  plaited  hair  —  bonnie  yellow 
hair  supporting  two  little  golden  hearts. 

Easy  would  it  be  for  me  to  weave  a  story  around 
a  tragedy  like  this.  I  refrain,  and  restrain  even  my 
imagination.     The  subject  is  a  sacred  one. 

But  another  day,  not  far  from  B ,  a  body  was 

found  in  the  river. 

Suicide  was  the  verdict ;  but  the  simple  court  that 
held  the  inquest  refrained  from  adding  those  idiotic 
words  "temporary  insanity." 

Well,  our  hero  Wilson,  and  the  boys  too,  were 
as  kind  as  they  could  be  to  unfortunate  idlers,  and 
gave  some  of  them  work  at  the  diggings  when  they 
could  be  approached.  What  I  mean  is  this,  that 
many  had  been  gentlemen  at  home  in  England,  and 
were  far  too  proud  to  take  manual  work  from  anybody. 

But  others  there  were  who  begged  for  it,  their 
only  wish  being  to  raise  as  much  cash  as  would  take 
them  back  to  America,  or  to  their  homes  in  Merry 
England. 

One  man  who  told  Wilson  he  belonged  to  a  good 
old  county  family  in  Kent,  and  who  really  looked  a 
young   fellow   of  education,  worked  for  weeks   and 


276   THE  DAY  WILL  SOON  BE  ON  THE  TURN 

seemed  veiy  grateful.  In  the  end,  he  showed  his 
gratitude  in  a  way  that  was  not  very  commendable. 
He  stole  about  five  hundred  dollars  in  nuggets  and 
gold  dust  and,  decamping,  reached  Dawson  City  and 
was  seen  no  more. 

Wilson  did  not  worry  over  this,  but  it  taught  him 
not  to  trust  every  one  who  was  pleasant  in  speech. 

But  shorter  and  shorter  grew  the  days,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  winter  was  going  to  be  not  only 
earlier  than  usual,  but  harder.  The  bears  now  dis- 
appeared. 

"  What  a  blessing  it  is,"  said  Wilson,  one  evening, 
"  that  we  came  prepared."  And  he  added  :  "  I  really 
did  not  know  which  of  you  young  ladies  to  admire 
most  when  you  came  to  visit  us  at  our  claims.  No- 
body must  ever  tell  me  that  fur  hoods  and  parkas  are 
not  becoming;  and  I  think  that  wolverene  is  just 
about  the  ^^^'^ttiest  fur  out." 

"It  does  seem  cruel,  tliough,"  said  Leebie,  "to  kill 
the  poor  little  minks,  or  even  the  wolverenes." 

"•  I  think,"  replied  Wilson,  laughing,  "  it  would  be 
as  well,  Leebie,  to  lecture  Sir  Duncan  Currie  on  the 
subject ;  for  it  is  he  who  catches  most  fur." 

Sir  Duncan  laid  one  ear  forward  when  he  heard 
his  name  mentioned.  But  he  did  not  make  any 
remark.  I  really  believe  that  Sir  Duncan  kept  very 
many  of  his  very  best  thoughts  to  himself. 

The  claims  continued  to  pan  out  well,  but  I  fear 
I  should  be  accused  of  exaggeration,  if  I  told  all  the 
truth  concerning  the  wonderful  land  of  gold. 


THE  DAY  WILL  SOON  BE  ON  THE  TURN   277 

I  have  surel}'  said  enough  to  prove  that  it  is  energy 
and  industry  alone  that  bring  fortune. 

As  the  weather  grew  colder  and  the  days  got 
shorter,  it  saddened  the  hearts  of  not  only  the  "  girls," 
but  our  boys  as  well,  to  observe  that  many  of  the 
miners  who  had  been  only  partially  successful  were 
now  all  but  destitute  of  the  necessaries  of  life. 
These  poor  fellows  worked  on  hopefully,  however, 
at  their  claims,  believing  that  luck  would  eventually 
take  a  turn.  For  some  it  did ;  for  others  it  came 
not,  and  these  at  last  stampeded  to  Dawson  City. 

But  provisions  of  all  kinds  had  there  even  already, 
reached  almost  famine  prices,  and  many  a  one  now 
repented  bitterly  ever  having  come  to  Kloudyke 
at  all, 

Ernest  and  Laurie  had,  as  we  have  seen,  taken 
Wilson  Webb's  advice,  and  did  far  less  work  now, 
spending  more  time  in  taking  wholesome  exercise. 
They  were  young,  very  young,  and  they  were  strong 
too. 

Well,  the  gold  would  keep.  This  was  Wilson's 
reasoning:  why  kill  themselves  in  winter  by  grub- 
bin  cr  for  that  which  could  be  got  with  far  less  toil 
and  trouble  in  the  lengthening  days  of  summer? 

They  settled  down  to  winter  work,  therefore,  in 
the  following  fashion:  — 

There  was  but  little  daylight  during  December, 
only  from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  two  hours,  accord- 
ing to  the  state  of  the  sky  and  atmosphere.  Well, 
to  make  the  most  of  this,  they  worked  with  lanterns 


278   THE  DAY  WILL  SOON  BE  ON  THE  TURN 

underground  in  the  mornings  and  in  the  evenings, 
so  that  they  could  have  all  the  middle  part  of  the 
day  for  sport  and  amusement. 

But  in  the  earlier  part  of  December  they  cut 
down  wood  on  the  braes,  and  conve3^ed  it  home  in 
logs  for  firing.  This  was  pretty  hard  work,  yet  they 
had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  they  Avere  pre- 
paring to  bid  defiance  to  the  worst  kind  of  weather 
that  could  blow. 

Their  extra  stores  they  had  long  since  "  cached," 
or  placed  in  safes  erected  on  poles.  It  was  thus 
protected  from  the  attacks  of  either  bears  or  wolves, 
though  the  former  sleep  most  of  the  winter. 

Poor  little  wire-haired  Currie  still  persisted  in 
sleeping  in  a  tub  out  of  doors ;  but  he  graciously 
permitted  Wilson  to  nearly  fill  tliat  tub  with  wood- 
shavings  and  skins,  and  under  these  he  quite  buried 
himself,  only  giving  voice  when  some  beast  of  an 
inquiring  turn  of  mind  —  a  fox  or  a  wolf  on  the  war- 
path —  came  prowling  round. 

These  wild  beasts  chose  the  darkest  nights  on 
which  to  visit  the  camp ;  and  as  it  was  no  good  at- 
tempting to  get  a  shot  at  them  then,  a  rifle  was 
placed  in  the  wall  so  that  when  Currie  gave  tongue 
it  could  be  fired  by  Wilson,  by  simply  pulling  a 
string  from  the  couch  where  he  lay. 

One  shot  was  enough ;  the  enemy  fled,  and  re- 
turned no  more. 

But  there  were  beautiful  moonlight  nights  when 
it  was  light  enough  to  obtain  a  shot,  and  either  one 


THE  DAY  WILL  SOON  BE  ON  THE  TURN   279 

of  the  bo3'S,  or  Wilson  liiiiiself,  would  creep  quietly 
out  when  Currie  barked,  and  have  a  look  around. 
Bruin  had  generally  been  the  would-be  burglar.  At 
the  commencement  of  winter,  and  in  one  month,  no 
less  than  three  bears  were  discovered  up  at  the 
cache,  endeavouring  to  claw  it  open ;  and  each  time 
one  was  shot. 

"Come,  men,"  Wilson  said  to  about  a  dozen  of 
men  one  night,  at  a  meeting  they  were  holding  to 
discuss  the  question  of  shutting  up  their  claims,  and 
retreating  down  upon  Dawson  City.  "  We  are  all 
brothers  here.  I  and  my  people  have  provisions  for 
two  whole  years,  and  we  are  not  going  to  see  you 
starve.  Besides,  God  is  sending  us  a  bit  of  fresh 
meat  now  and  then,  and  even  wolves  are  not  bad 
tack  when  a  fellow  is  hard  pushed.  Don't  give  up 
your  claims ;  that  would  be  ruinous !  Better  times 
will  come  —  must  come;  and,  my  friends,  don't  for- 
get this :  the  day  w^ill  soon  be  on  the  turn." 

The  men  —  hollow-checked,  glistening-eyed,  and 
starving  —  stood  up  with  one  accord  to  thank  and 
bless  him. 

Many  could  not  utter  a  word,  owing  to  the  tears 
that  were  choking  them,  but  all  crowded  round  him, 
and  the  honest  grip  of  each  hard  hand  was  proof 
enough  of  the  gratitude  that  dwelt  in  their  hearts. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

CHRISTMAS    IN    KLONDYKE  —  A    TERRIBLE    JOURNEY 

"  But  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread, 
You  seize  the  flower,  its  bloom  is  shed; 
Or  like  the  snow-fall  in  the  river, 
A  moment  white  —  then  melts  forever; 
Or  like  the  borealis  race 
That  flit  ere  you  can  point  their  place; 
Or  like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form. 
Evanishing  amid  the  storm." —  BuRXS. 

Perhaps  the  glorious  aurora  borealis  never  shone 
and  scintillated  more  beautifully  above  the  wild  hills 
and  snow-laden  woods  of  Klondyke,  than  it  did  on 
that  still,  starry  night  of  December  25th,  189-. 

As  white  as  the  sunlight  at  one  moment,  in  quiver- 
ing, snake-like  ribbons  and  fringes,  so  close,  appar- 
ently, that  you  might  cast  a  salmon  fly  over  it,  as  one 
does  over  the  Dee,  and  the  next  moment  flickering 
here  and  there  in  a  flush  of  pale  crimson,  sea-green,  or 
blue. 

Not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard  over  all  this  strange 
land,  save  now  and  then  the  wail  of  a  wolf,  or  sharp, 
ringing  bark  of  a  fox  in  the  distance.  Except  for 
this,  it  was  a  silence  that  seemed  ^preternatural,  a 
silence  that  could  be  felt,  and  gazing  skywards,  al- 
though one  might  be  mistaken,  it  was  impossible  not 

280 


CHRISTMAS  IN  KLONDYKE  28 1 

to  believe  thcat  the    aurora    did   emit   sound,  partly- 
hissing,  partly  crackling. 

Well,  anyhow,  the  light  of  the  stars  shone  with 
but  feeble  rays  through  this  light  of  the  north. 
There  was  a  new  moon,  too,  but  that  was  slowly 
sinking  in  the  west. 

No  need  of  lanterns  to-night,  at  all  events,  to  guide 
those  half-dozen  brave  and  sturdy  miners,  who  were 
making  their  way  through  the  powder}'  snow  towards 
the  mansion. 

It  was  Christmas  night,  and  neither  Wilson,  his 
wife,  nor  Leebie  were  going  to  forget  it.  Tlie  girls 
had  been  busy  for  days  making  mysterious-looking 
cakes  and  a  huge  plum-pudding,  with  many  other 
dainties,  which  a  woman  only  could  name. 

The  boys  had  been  busy  too ;  not  only  was  there  a 
tent  added  to  the  mansion,  whereby  its  available 
space  was  extended,  but  the  inside  of  both  this  and 
the  largest  room  was  decorated  with  evergreens,  of 
which  the  woods  around  afforded  a  supply  that  would 
suffice  to  cover  the  walls  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  itself, 
outside  and  in,  and  change  its  dome  into  a  canopy  of 
green. 

But  those  evergreens  behaved  "funnily,"  as  Laurie 
expressed  it.  For  at  the  end  of  the  room  farthest 
from  the  fireplace,  they  were  hung  with  tiny  icicles, 
from  the  melting  of  portions  of  snow,  which  it  had 
been  impossible  to  shake  off.  I)Ut  tliese  icicles  had 
a  decorative  tendenc}*,  and  sparkled  with  all  the 
colours  of  the  rainbow. 


282  CHRISTMAS   IN   KLONDYKE 

A  dozen,  in  all,  sat  down  to  dinner.  Well,  tluit 
was  better  tlian  thirteen,  anyhow.  Tlie  ladies  sat 
nearest  to  the  fire;  not  because  they  were  colder 
than  anybody  else,  but  because  they  had  to  serve 
up  the  diJihes. 

I  may  mention,  at  once,  that  soup  was  not  down 
on  the  menu.  But  fish  was.  And  delightful  they 
were.  These  splendid  trout  the  boys  had  caught  — 
Indian-fashion  —  through  an  ice-hole  in  the  stream. 
Well,  there  was  a  splendid  haunch  of  deer,  brown, 
juicy,  tender,  and  done  to  a  turn.  This  was  flanked 
by  potatoes  and  hunks  of  brown  bread,  baked  by 
Leebie  herself.  There  was  Avild  duck,  besides,  for 
those  who  liked  them.  Beauties  they  were,  though 
not  very  large ;  and,  mind  you,  those  miners  had 
brought  healthy  appetites  to  that  Christmas  dinner. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Wilson,  with  a  smile,  "  I  shall 
carve  these  ducks  as  the  young  Scottish  naval  sur- 
geon did  some  fowls  that  were  placed  before  him. 

" '  Let  every  man  tak'  a  birrrd,'  he  said,  and  so 
you  must  do  the  same." 

Well,  for  vegetables,  there  were  green  peas  and 
tomatoes  ;  tinned,  of  course,  for  neither  of  these 
dainties  flourish  so  far  north,  as  yet.  But  I  think 
that  the  cranberry  jelly  went  well  with  either  veni- 
son or  duck.  This  jelly  —  honour  to  whom  honour 
is  due  —  was  also  made  by  Leebie. 

The  wine  was  coffee,  with  preserved  milk. 

From  my  own  experience  of  regions  round  the 
pole,  I   can  testify  that  good  coffee  is   a  far  more 


CHRISTaiAS   IN   IvLONDYKE  283 

wholesome  and  generous  stimulant  than  rum;  and 
I've  tried  both. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Maddie,  with  a  mischievous 
smile,  "some  of  the  gentlemen  would  prefer  iced 
water." 

But  the  very  thoughts  of  this  seemed  to  cause 
more  than  one  of  her  guests  to  shudder. 

Well,  the  crowning  glory  of  this  Christmas  din- 
ner was  the  plum-pudding. 

Ernest  himself  hoisted  this  to  the  board,  and, 
indeed,  it  needed  all  his  strength  to  carry  it.  It 
was  rich  and  brown  and  savoury,  and  though  no 
holly  graced  its  crown,  a  species  of  crimson  barberry 
did  duty  excellently  well  instead. 

I  feel  quite  certain  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  him- 
self —  who,  I  am  told,  is  rather  partial  to  ]3udding  — 
never  enjoyed  a  more  splendid  or  better-made  pud- 
ding than  this. 

After  this,  more  coffee  was  served,  and  then 
Scotch  thistles  were  handed  round.  Each  Scotch 
thistle,  however,  was  of  purest  crystal,  and  con- 
tained a  modicum   of   the  purest   Scottish   whisky. 

So  ended  the  dimier. 

But  not  the  evening. 

For  now  a  wide  circle  was  formed  around  the  low 
hearth,  on  which  more  logs  were  heaped,  and  blazed 
and  danced  and  sparkled  right  merrily. 

I  need  hardly  add  tliat  Towsie  and  bold  Sir  Dun- 
can Currie  were  there,  or  that  they  had  enjoyed 
tlieir  dinner  as  mucli  as  any  one  else. 


284  CHRISTMAS   IN   KLONDYKE 

"  Upon  the  whole,"  remarked  the  terrier  to  his 
friend  Towsie,  "  Klondyke  isn't  such  a  bad  place 
after  all,  and  even  at  home  it  ain't  every  day  we  get 
such  a  glorious  dinner  to  discuss.  What  do  you  say, 
friend  Towsie  ?  " 

Towsie  sighed. 

"J  say  that  I'd  rather  eat  a  dry  biscuit  in  our  cave 
on  the  moor,  in  our  own  bonnie  land,  than  pudding 
and  venison  here.  Ah,  Currie!  we  don't  quite  under- 
stand mankind  yet,  as  wise  as  we  are ;  but,  after  all, 
I  think  that  digging  for  gold,  Currie,  must  be  a 
species  of  madness." 

"  I'd  rather  dig  for  mink  myself,"  said  Currie,  and 
then  he  curled  up  and  went  to  sleep. 

There  was  nothing  talked  about  to-night  except  home. 

And  several  of  those  miners  had  stories  to  tell  of 
their  former  lives,  that  were  interesting  to  a  degree, 
but  sad  enough  to  boot.  Nearly  every  one  there  had  a 
mother  or  sister  or  sweetheart  in  the  "  far  countrie," 
and  their  thoughts  went  out  to  her  to-night. 

And  even  the  songs  that  were  sung  and  the  melo- 
dies played  by  Wilson  Webb  on  his  violin,  had  an  air 
of  sadness  about  them. 

Never  mind !     That  Christmas  evening  was  a  very 
happy  one  for  all  that,  and  not  a  heart  was  there, 
around  that  cheerful  fire  to-night,  which  did  not  beat 
high  with  hopes  of  brighter  days  to  come. 
*  *  *  *  * 

I  am  so  terribly  sensitive  that  even  while  I  write 
my  readers  seem  to  be  around  me,  and  I  often  feel  I 


CHRISTMAS   IN  KLONDYKE  285 

have  many  things  to  apologise  for.  I  feel  just  so  at 
this  moment,  because  of  my  inability  to  make  the 
last  part  of  this  chapter  as  gladsome  and  cheery  as 
the  first. 

But  one's  duty  plainly  is  to  describe  things  as  they 
are,  and  at  the  risk  of  dashing  the  hopes  of  many 
who  may  have  half  made  up  their  minds  to  visit  this 
land  of  gold,  I  must  say  that  the  winter  there  may 
be  not  only  a  hard  but  a  deadly  time. 

In  what  follows,  then,  you  will  find  no  straining 
after  stagy  effects.  I  sball  be  happy  if  simplicity 
marks  my  every  sentence,  though,  being  an  Arctic 
man  myself,  it  would  be  easy  for  me  to  make  my 
descriptions  very  graphic  indeed,  without  departing 
in  the  slightest  degree  from  facts. 

Still,  I  should  premise  few  winters,  even  in  the 
regions  around  the  Klondyke  and  Dawson  City,  are 
so  terrible  as  that  of  189-  was. 

As  early  as  October,  high  winds  and  biting  blasts 
began  to  blow  fiercely  from  off  the  Norland  hills, 
and  wlien  it  veered  more  round  to  the  west,  snow 
commenced  to  fall,  in  little  pellets  at  first,  no  larger 
than  grains  of  mustard-seed.  But  as  the  wind  went 
down  this  was  changed  to  big  dry  flakes,  of  a  size 
such  as  we  never  see  in  England.  I  have  myself 
seen  such  flakes  —  away  up  in  Greenland  north  —  as 
large  as  florins  and  crown-pieces. 

As  the  frost  was  hard,  and  even  the  river  frozen 
over,  these  flakes,  lying  loosely  enough,  soon  accumu- 
lated to  what  is  called  a  great  fall. 


286  CHRISTMAS   IN   KLONDYKE 

For  clays  and  days  after  this  a  kind  of  blizzard 
blew.  The  sensation,  when  one  attempted  to  go 
out  of  doors,  was  precisely  like  that  experienced  by 
a  man  who  is  out  of  form,  when  he  stands  under 
a  cold  shower-bath.  One  gasped  and  struggled. 
The  ice-dust  was  choking,  suffocating,  and  paralysing 
to  the  air-cells.  The  cold,  too,  was  intense,  and  one 
had  to  grope  one's  way  from  door  to  door. 

The  saloons  in  Dawson  City  were  brightly  lit  up 
all  day  long,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  hundreds  of 
poor  wretches  sought  for  shelter,  refreshment,  and 
warmth  within  their  walls. 

The  wind  fell  at  last,  and  then  the  scene  all 
around,  migtit  have  been  called  dreary  in  the  ex- 
treme. Nothing  black,  or  even  dark,  was  visible. 
The  whole  world  was  robed  in  its  winding-sheet. 
Tents  and  even  log-houses  had  collapsed,  and  many 
of  the  latter  had  been  entirely  covered  over,  so  that 
the  inmates  had  to  be  dug  out. 

In  some  parts  the  wreaths  of  snow — shaped  like 
curling  waves  just  before  they  break  on  a  sandy 
beach  —  were  so  high  one  could  scarce  have  touched 
their  sharply  defined  upper  edges  with  a  fishing-rod. 

But  starvation  reigned  in  Dawson  City.  The 
prices  of  food  of  all  kinds  were  prohibitory  exce^jt 
to  those  who  had  an  abundance  of  "  dust." 

Hunger  alone  is  capable  of  making  cowards  of  even 
brave  men,  but  few,  indeed,  can  \Aithstand  the  wither- 
ing, nerve-destroying  effects  of  starvation  and  cold 
combined. 


CHRISTMAS   IN   KLONDYKE  287 

"  Boys,"  said  a  Yankee,  one  evening,  at  the  bar  of 
INIac's  saloon,  "  I've  had  enough  of  this.  What  say 
you  to  skip?  It  is  little  more  than  seven  hundi-ed 
miles  to  Juneau.  It  "is  true  the  journey  "will  be  a 
terrible  one,  for  burdens  must  be  borne  ;  but,  rather 
than  leave  my  bones  here  for  the  wolves  to  pick, 
I'm  going  to  try  it." 

The  proposal  found  favour  with  scores,  and  so  a 
stampede  was  resolved  upon;  and  in  two  days'  time 
five  hundred  men  at  least  had  crossed  the  frozen 
river,  and  were  heading  away  for  the  far,  far  distant 
Cliilcoot  Pass. 

They  had  hired  Indians  as  guides  and  carriers. 
There  was  no  thought  of  gold  now.  All  they  longed 
for  was  food  and  warmth  and  a  chance  of  life. 

They  departed  singing. 

Yes,  British  courage  or  American  is  indomitable ! 

But  mercy  on  us !  what  a  fearful  journey  they 
had  undertaken !  Had  they  been  all  as  strong  as 
mountaineers,  they  could  not  have  hoped  to  reach 
the  end  of  it  without  sufferings  and  privations,  the 
character  of  which  it  would  be  difficult,  indeed,  to 
exaggerate. 

Shall  we  follow  them  in  imagination  ?  Better  not, 
I  tliink.  But  a  man  lives  near  me  now  who  had 
made  one  in  that  thin  dark  line  which,  as  he  spoke 
in  short  sentences,  every ^  Avord  stamped  with  the 
impress  of  truth,  I  could  in  fancy  see  winding  its 
slow,  sad  way  across  snow-clad  plains  and  frozen 
streams,  round  rocky  boulders  houses-high,  through 


288  CHRISTMAS   IN    KLONDYKE 

lonesome  frozen  forests  and  over  mountains  bleak  and 
bare  and  wild  ;  poor  fellows  with  frosted  feet  and 
lagging  limbs,  their  faces  pale,  their  lips  a  dusky 
blue,  hardly  looking  where  they  went,  hardly  caring, 
indeed,  seeing  nothing  but  the  snow  or  ice  beneath 
their  feet,  happy  only  —  if  happiness  it  could  be 
called  —  when  night  fell  and  they  could  creep  into 
their  sleeping-bags,  cold  and  hungry  as  they  were ! 

To  sleep  ?  Not  all,  for  refreshing  as  sleep  would 
have  been  in  many  cases,  aching  limbs  and  racking 
coughs  banished  slumber  till  far  into  the  short  hours, 
when  it  was  well-nigh  time  to  roll  out  and  continue 
the  dreary  journey. 

"  But  ah  !  "  says  my  informant,  "  seldom  of  a  morn- 
ing did  all  roll  out,  and  when  we  placed  hands 
on  the  shoulders  of  those  we  thought  were  sleeping 
sound,  we  found  the  sleep  was  sound  indeed.  They 
were  dead  and  stiff. 

"  We  buried  them,  bags  and  all.  Just  covered  them 
up  with  snow,  for  the  ground  was  far  too  hard  to 
open,  even  had  we  brought  with  us  picks  and  shovels. 
The  bears  and  the  foxes  would  find  them  in  spring, 
but  this  we  could  not  help. 

"  So  slow  was  our  march  that  November  itself  was 
half  through  before  we  reached  Marsh  Lake,  and 
the  pass  still  lay  in  front  of  us. 

"  Those  among  us  who  were  strongest  sympathised 
with  the  weakly,  as  far  as  men  in  such  circumstances 
as  these  can  have  sympathy  or  feeling.  We  helped 
the  ailing  along,  anyhow,  and  we  gave  them  a  portion 


CHRISTMAS   IN   KLONDYKE  289 

of  our  own  food  allowance ;  we  even  carried  them 
when  too  bad  to  walk. 

"  I  mind  well  that  one  afternoon  Nat  Hunter  and 
I  were  carrying  a  poor  fellow  between  us.  The  day 
was  a  bitter  one,  with  a  high  wind  and  driving  snow. 

" '  William,'  said  Nat  to  me,  as  well  as  his  half- 
frozen  lips  could  speak,  'we  needn't  bother  with 
this  one  any  more.' 

" '  Oh,  Nat,'  I  answered,  '  we  cannot  desert  the 
poor  fellow  now ! ' 

" '  Speaks  well  for  your  kind  heart,  William,  but  — 
he  is  deady 

"  So  we  covered  him  up  as  we  had  helped  to  cover 
so  many,  and  then  —  well,  then  we  lit  our  pipes. 

"  We  left  more  than  a  dozen  dead,  on  or  near  the 
pass,  and  when  we  dragged  ourselves  into  Dyea  at 
last,  there  were  barely  three  hundred  and  fifty  of  us 
all  told. 

"For  yeai-s  and  years  to  come  our  trail  will  be 
traced  by  bleaching  bones." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

SICKNESS    AND   SORROW  —  THE   MANIAC   DOCTOR 

"  O  woman  !  in  our  hours  of  ease 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made  ; 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thou  !  "  —  Scott. 

A  MINER  arrived  pretty  early  one  morning  at  the 
mansion. 

Wilson  Webb  and  the  boys  had  just  breakfasted, 
and  were  getting  ready  their  lanterns  to  go  under- 
ground. 

It  was  about  the  latter  end  of  January,  and  the 
wind  was  blowing  fierce  and  keen. 

He  was  a  hardy  Cumberland  man,  and  had  already 
made  his  pile. 

"  Oh,  good-morning,  Spencer ! "  said  Wilson. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Webb.  But  I  haven't  the 
best  of  news  to  give  you." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Only  this,  —  and  it's  bad  enough,  —  my  pal 
dropped  down-stream  last  night." 

"What  — dead?" 

"  Ay,  dead  enough,  sir.  Don't  say  a  word  to  the 
290 


SICKNESS  AND  SORROW   '  29 1 

ladies.  We'll  get  him  under  by  lantern  light,  and 
they  need  never  know. 

"  It  was  his  heart,"  continued  the  miner,  "  acceler- 
ated, as  a  doctor  would  say,  by  starvation." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  must  admit  that  we  — 
my  young  pals  and  I  —  have  been  willing  to  share 
our  very  last  crust  with  you." 

"  Ay,  that  you  have !  May  God  bless  you  for  it ! 
But  I  must  be  plain  with  you.  These  miners  j^ou 
have  been  so  good  to  are  British  and  American;  and, 
being  so,  they  are  proud,  and  it  is  the  very  fact  that 
you  refuse  to  take  their  dust  for  the  meat  and  flour, 
which  causes  them  in  their  pride  to  keep  away,  and, 
in  fact,  to  starve." 

"  Is  that  so,  Spencer,  really  ?  " 

"  That  is  so  really,  sir." 

"  Well,  theii,  in  future,  and  till  better  days  come 
round,  I  shall  sell^ 

"  Spoken  like  a  hero,  sir.  Rather  than  hurt  the 
pride  of  those  brave  fellows,  you  bury  your  own. 
Now  I'll  go  and  tell  them." 

It  was  evident  he  had  done  ao ;  for  when  daylight 
came,  more  than  a  dozen  gaunt  and  hungry  men 
found  their  Avay  to  the  mansion,  received  tinned  and 
other  food,  paid  for  it  like  men,  and  went  away 
contented. 

But  Wilson  had  told  each  and  all  of  them  that, 
though  he  had  consented  to  take  "  dust "  for  the 
stores  from  the  cache,  all  deer  or  wolf  meat  and  all 
fish  caught  must  be  accepted  as  gifts. 


292  SICKNESS    AND   SORROW 

And  the  men  agreed  to  this,  without  a  single 
dissentient  voice. 

No  more  hands  died  of  actual  starvation,  but  long 
before  that  weary  winter  ended,  five  more  graves  had 
to  be  opened,  to  receive  the  bodies  of  men  who  had 
succumbed  to  the  awful  cold  and  to  chest  complaints. 

Most  of  these  had  been  nursed  to  the  very  last,  by 
either  Maddie  or  Leebie. 

So  kind  hands  had  smoothed  their  dying  pillows. 

But  what  made  several  of  these  death-beds  all  the 
more  affecting  was,  that  towards  the  end  the  poor 
fellows  imagined  that  they  were  being  nursed  by 
a  sister  or  mother. 

"  Hold  my  hand,  Jeannie,"  said  one  f)Oor  young 
Scottish  lad. 

Leebie  took  the  hand  in  hers ;  and  a  thin,  thin, 
cold  one  it  was. 

"Mother  isn't  here.  But  tell  her,  Jeannie,  —  tell 
her  that  —  I  died  happy  —  so  happy;  and  that  I'm 
going  to  land  where  gold  is  never  needed,  —  a  land, 
Jeannie,  where  there  is  neither  cauld  nor  care." 

There  was  a  smile  on  his  pale  lips ;  but  the  eyes 
rolled  upwards,  the  eyelids  drooped,  and  Leebie 
knew  the  end  had  come. 

Spring  returned.  The  days  grew  longer,  brighter, 
clearer.  And  though  floating  ice  came  down  the 
stream,  no  more  snow  fell. 

Bears  that  had  slept  most  of  the  weary  winter 
through,  in  caves  far  away  among  the  hills,  awoke, 
ravenous  and  hungry ;  and  came  lower  down  to  seek 


SICKNESS   AND   SORROW  293 

for  meat  or  fish.  Tlie}^  weve  sometimes  seen  gnaw- 
ing the  bark  of   trees,  or  eating  the  greener  twigs. 

Bnt  foxes  and  wolves  went  farther  off. 

One  day  Ernest,  with  Currie,  had  gone  to  the 
woods  in  search  of  a  bhick  Mr.  Bruin  which,  after 
very  cautious  stalking,  he  managed  to  kill.  But  in 
returning,  lie  found  in  a  sheltered  corner  some  sweet, 
wee  wild  flowers  nodding  to  the  gentle  westling 
wind,  and  pulled  a  bouquet  for  Leebie. 

And,  as  he  gave  her  the  flowers  and  received 
thanks,  he  told  her  that  he  had  seen  a  bird,  and 
heard  it  sing. 

"  Oh,  then,"  cried  Leebie,  "  spring  is  indeed  come, 
at  long,  long  last." 

"  I  would  not  go  so  far  as  that,"  said  Ernest;  "  but, 
Leebie,  spring  is  coming  !  " 

Perhaps  Ernest  lingered  a  little  longer  than  usual 
that  morning  beside  Leebie.  So  true  is  it  what  Ten- 
nyson has  told  us,  that 

"  In  the  spring  a  livelier  iris  changes  on  the  burnished  dove ; 
In  tlie  spring  a  young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts 
of  love." 

Well,  one  day,  about  a  month  after  tliis,  a  party  of 
strange  Indians  arrived  at  the  camp,  dressed  in  fur 
from  top  to  toe.  The  Indians  were  strange,  but 
stranger  far  the  story  they  had  to  tell. 

Tliere  were  seven  of  them  in  all,  and  from  the 
bows  and  arrows  and  other  arms  they  carried,  it  was 
evident  they  were  on  a  hunting  expedition. 


294  SICKNESS   AND   SORROW 

The  chief,  or  "boss,"  could  talk  a  little  English, 
having  been  guide  many  times,  he  told  Wilson,  to 
white  men  who  came  with  fire-sticks  from  the  "  much 
big  water." 

They  were  a  tribe  of  wandering  Indians,  but  their 
real  home  lay  at  a  village  near  by  a  lake,  to  the  south- 
ward of  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  not  far  from  the 
banks  of  Big  Salmon  River. 

Now,  although  Wilson  Webb  had  not  said  a  word 
to  the  boys,  or  to  any  one,  for  many  a  long  month 
about  poor  Dr.  Debrett,  it  was  because  he  believed 
him  dead. 

The  uidiappy  Doc.  had  just  disappeared  and  come 
again  no  more.  "  Long  ere  now,"  Wilson  had  told 
himself,  when  thinking  about  his  dear  old  friend  but 
a  day  or  two  before  the  arrival  of  these  Indians,  "  he 
must  have  fallen  an  easy  prey  to  bears  or  wolves,  or 
been  drowned  in  some  raging  torrent." 

But  what  the  Indian  chief  told  him  at  once  raised 
hope  in  his  heart. 

A  strange  white  man,  with  no  fire-stick,  had  one 
evening  arrived  "mooch  sick  and  plenty  mooch  tire," 
at  the  Indian  village  of  Kwea-a-chi. 

The  Indians  had  taken  pity  on  him,  and  given  him 
flesh  to  eat  and  wild  honey,  and  shelter  in  the  biggest 
tent ;  and  so  he  grew  well  by  degrees  and  lived 
amongst  them. 

From  the  chief's  description  of  the  strange  white 
man,  Wilson  Webb  felt  certain  and  sure  it  was  none 
other  save  the  unhappy  doctor. 


SICKNESS   AND   SORROW  295 

"Was  there  anything  strange  in  his  manner?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  cried  the  chief.  "  He  speak  mooch  to 
self.  And  he  talkee,  talkee,  sometime  all  night,  to 
good  spirits.  No,  no,  we  not  see.  On'y  white  man 
see  spirits  foh  true." 

"Boys,"  said  Wilson,  "  this  is  my  friend,  the  doc- 
toi-,  and  I  am  going  to  find  him,  living  or  dead." 

"  Then  we  shall  go  too  !  " 

"No,  lads,  no.  Here  you  must  stay  and  work 
your  claims,  and  see  to  mine,  with  hired  labour.  I 
shall  take  just  one  friend  with  me,  and  that  is  little 
Currie.     These  Indians  shall  guide  me." 

Great,  indeed,  was  Maddie's  distress  when  she 
heard  Wilson's  resolve. 

She  shed  bitter  tears,  —  for  never  yet  had  they  been 
parted,  —  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  him. 

But  this  her  husband  would  not  hear  of. 

"  The  danger  is  nothing  to  me,"  he  said ;  "  but  small 
though  it  may  be,  and  few  even  the  hardships  I  shall 
have  to  encounter,  compared  to  that  we  have  gone 
through  together,  I  shall  be  ten  times  more  happ}^  and 
hopeful  if  you  stay  at  home,  darling.  And  I  shall 
always  be  buoyed  up  with  the  thought  that  you  are 
praying  for  me." 

So  ^laddie  dried  her  eyes  at  last,  and  tried  to  be 
brave. 

Wilson  started  the  very  next  day,  simply  with  his 
gun  over  his  shoulder,  and  Currie  trotting  at  his 
heels. 


296  SICKNESS   AND   SORROW 

Currie  had  kissed  Towsie  before  he  departed. 

"  I  don't  know  where  on  earth  we're  bound  for," 
said  the  brave  little  terrier,  "  but  of  course  he  couldn't 
go  without  me.  I'll  take  good  care  of  him,  Towsie, 
even  if  I  have  to  kill  an  Indian  or  two,  and  the  usual 
amount  of  bears  and  wolves." 

It  would  be  foolish,  indeed,  to  attempt  to  minimise 
the  dangers  of  this  long  journey  towards  the  Blue 
Mountains.  Only  a  man  in  the  best  of  health  and 
strength  could  have  accomplished  it. 

Wilson  had  more  adventures  than  would  suffice 
to  fill  a  good-sized  volume.  The  Indians  carried  all 
his  traps,  provisions,  and  so  forth,  and  of  course  acted 
as  his  guides.  But  there  were  streams  innumerable 
to  ford,  some  of  them  dangerous  in  the  extreme,  from 
the  fact  that  the  shallows  were  usually  but  a  little 
way  above  rapids  and  cataracts,  and  slipping  or  fall- 
ing would  have  meant  certain  death. 

There  were  wild  canons  —  beast-haunted  —  to  trav- 
erse, high  hills  to  climb,  where  our  hero  had  literally 
to  hang  on  by  the  toes,  and  dark  gloomy  forests  to 
penetrate  and  pierce. 

But  the  Indians  were  faithful.  Wilson  gave  them 
plenty  of  tobacco,  with  the  promise  of  much  more, 
and  many  blankets  besides,  if  they  should  guide  him 
safely  back  to  the  camp  of  his  friends. 

Five  long  weary  weeks  were  spent  before  they 
reached  the  village  where  the  white  man  lived. 

It  was  the  doctor.  And  yet  how  changed !  The 
long  beard  he  had  grown  was  sprinkled  with  grc}'', 


SICKNESS   AND   SORROW  297 

his  hair  as  white  as  the  snowy  peaks  of  Toon-dah, 
his  cheek-bones  high,  and  his  dark  eyes  glittering 
with  a  light  which  the  Indian  guide  told  Wilson  the 
spirits  had  put  there. 

"  Debrett !  Charlie,  old  man,  don't  you  know  me  ? 
Don't  you  know  your  old  friend  Wilson  Webb?" 

The  doctor's  gaze  was  on  the  far-off  forest  yonder, 
that  went  straggling  up  the  mountain's  side.  He 
seemed  to  see  nothing  else. 

"  Poor  Wilson  Webb !  "  he  said  slowly.  "  Yes,  he  is 
in  the  cowboy  country,  and  Dr.  Debrett  —  I  did  used 
to  know  him,  but  he  never  writes  now  —  never  writes." 

"Well,  my  friend,"  said  Wilson,  "you  shall  come 
with  me  to-morrow,  and  I  will  bring  you  back  to  Dr. 
Debrett." 

The  Doc.  just  turned  his  back  and  walked  away 
towards  his  own  hut,  the  Indians  everywhere  stand- 
ing aside  to  let  him  pass. 

For  men.  in  this  state  of  mind  were  looked  upon 
with  a  reverence  that  amounted  to  awe  by  these  poor 
savages.  They  were  supposed  not  only  to  commune 
with  spirits,  but  with  the  Great  Spirit  himself. 

From  the  tall,  hideously  grotesque  images  that 
stood  here  and  there  in  this  Indian  village,  their 
religion  seemed  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  devil- 
worship,  and  Wilson  thought  he  discovered  evidence 
of  even  human  sacrifice.  But  of  this  he  was  not  at 
all  certain,  and  I  myself  am  inclined  to  doubt  it. 

Dr.  Debrett  went  slowly  away,  and  sat  quietly 
down  on  the  sunny  side  of  his  own  hut,  which  was 


298  SICKNESS   AND  SORROW 

covered  with  skins,  lined  witli  skins,  and  probably 
the  most  comfortable  in  the  whole  village. 

Wilson  sat  down  beside  him,  but  the  Doc.  took  no 
notice. 

Only  he  could  be  heard  muttering  to  himself,  now 
and  then  :  — 

"Dr.  Debrett?  Dr.  Debrett?  Didn't  I  used  to 
know  the  doctor  once  upon  a  time,  ever,  ever  so 
long  ago?  And  wasn't  he  married?  Oh,  yes,  a 
charming  little  wife.  Died  —  a  terrible  accident. 
And  I  —  yes,  I  was  as  much  grieved  as  Dr.  Debrett 
himself.  Strange  that  I  should  have  taken  it  so  to 
heart.     Strange  —  strange  —  strange !  " 

Wilson  was  very  much  pleased  when  he  found 
that,  with  only  two  Indians  to  act  as  guides,  he 
could  dash  down  the  river  all  the  way  to  Fort  Sel- 
kirk, and  so  on  to  Dawson  City  itself. 

But  as  there  would  be  some  porterage  needed  at 
cataracts,  another  big  canoe,  with  five  Indians  as  its 
crew,  was  got  ready. 

Everything  was  prepared  in  a  single  night,  and 
early  next  morning,  much  to  the  sorrow  of  every  one 
in  the  village,  Wilson  and  the  Doc.  departed.  He 
suffered  himself  to  be  led  down  to  the  river,  as 
quietly  as  a  child  would  have  done. 

Then  the  voyage  was  at  once  commenced. 

The  river  was  a  rapid  one,  at  some  places  ex- 
tremely so ;  but  the  rowers  were  exceedingly  expert, 
and  knew  the  stream  in  its  every  feature. 

At  times  the  boats  dashed  on  with  inconceivable 


SICKNESS  AND   SORROW  299 

speed;  at  otlier  times  it  was  considerably  less,  but 
never  slow. 

Yet  there  were  many  places  at  which  the  guide 
called  a  halt,  and  at  these  the  canoes  or  boats  had  to 
be  landed  and  hauled  along  the  banks. 

This  was  no  easy  work,  when  the  sides  were  steep 
and  rocky,  though,  much  to  Wilson's  joy,  Debrett 
himself  gave  assistance,  in  a  mechanical  sort  of  way, 
however,  as  if  he  had  been  some  wonderful  piece  of 
automatic  machinery. 

Still,  there  was  a  ray  of  hope  in  this. 

At  times  Wilson  Webb  tried  to  draw  him  out,  but 
it  was  evident  enough  the  poor  fellow's  memory  was, 
for  the  time  being  at  all  events,  completely  gone. 

Under  other  and  happier  circumstances,  and  with 
other  company,  that  voyage  down  the  beautiful  river 
would  have  been  all  one  long  and  pleasant  picnic. 

It  was  summer  now,  and  the  woods  and  lower  hills 
were  very  beautiful,  and  the  wild  flowers  bloomed  all 
along  the  banks  of  the  river  or  clung  to  the  rocks 
in  great  patches  or  curtains  of  snow-white,  blue,  and 
crimson. 

Anxious  though  he  was  to  get  home,  Wilson 
would  often  make  his  Indian  rowers  lie  on  their 
oars,  that  he  might  listen  to  the  gush  of  bird  melody 
which  everywhere  filled  the  air. 

Dawson  City  once  more  I 

And  Wilson  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  on  to  his 
camp  and  claim,  hoping  to  find  all  well,  as,  assuredly, 
he  would  find  a  welcome. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE  CLOUD   HAS   LIFTED 

"  ]\Iusic  that  dwells 
Lingering,  and  wandering  on  as  loth  to  die  ; 
Like  thoughts  whose  very  sweetness  yieldeth  proof, 
That  they  were  born  for  immortality." 

—  Wordsworth. 

Yes,  everything  w«s  well,  and  Wilson  Webb  could 
not  help  thinking  it  was  really  worth  his  while  to 
have  been  so  long  away  just  to  receive  so  happy  a 
welcome,  and  such  evidences  that  there  was  one 
beincr  who  loved  him  better  than  all  the  world,  and 
that  was  Maddie. 

But  the  only  words  she  could  utter  were,  "Oh, 
Wilson  !  "  Then  she  flung  herself  into  his  arms,  and 
cried. 

"  I've  had  such  a  long  and  weary  time,"  she  said, 
when  at  last  she  found  speech  ;  "  and  I've  had  such 
dreams,  I  will  never,  never  let  you  leave  me  more." 

When  he  led  Maddie  into  the  house,  Wilson 
seemed  suddenly  to  recollect  himself.  He  gazed 
anxiously  around  the  room. 

"  Dr.  Debrett  ?  "  he  said  ;  "  Charlie  ?  Is  he  not 
here,  and  did  he  not  come  in?" 

300 


THE   CLOUD   HAS  LIFTED  3OI 

He  waited  not  for  a  reply,  but  went  hurrying  out 
again. 

No  one,  not  even  the  Indians,  seemed  to  have 
noticed  which  way  he  had  gone. 

But  some  instinct  —  for  reason,  ahis  !  had  fled  — 
appeared  to  have  guided  the  poor  Doc.  to  the  heap 
of  charred  wood  that  had  once  been  his  happy  home  ; 
and  there  Wilson  found  him,  sitting  on  a  half-burned 
log  of  wood.  His  hands  were  pressed  over  his  face, 
and,  while  his  chest  heaved  con\'Tilsively,  the  tears 
were  gushing  through  his  fingers. 

Wilson  was  no  doctor,  yet  he  had  been  told  that 
the  insane  never  weep.  He  looked  upon  what  he 
now  beheld,  therefore,  as  a  good  sign,  and  simply 
sat  beside  his  friend  and  watched  him. 

At  last,  with  a  long-drawn,  broken  sort  of  a  sigh, 
he  looked  up. 

Then  lie  stretched  out  his  thin  cold  hand  toAvards 
Wilson. 

"  It  was  there,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  ruins  ; 
"just  there.     The  tragedy  I     The  fearful  tragedy  ! " 

Even  these  words  caused  Wilson's  heart  to  beat 
high  with  hope. 

"  Poor  Debrett !  Poor  Charlie  !  "  continued  the 
Doc. 

Then  Wilson's  newly  awakened  hope  died  sud- 
denly away  in  his  heart,  for  his  friend  had  evidently 
lost  his  own  identity,  and  fancied  himself  some 
other  man. 

And    yet    he   was    so    very    gentle   withal,    and 


302  THE   CLOUD   HAS   LIFTED 

appeared  grateful,  indeed,  for  every  little  service 
done  liim,  whether  by  Maddie,  Leebie,  or  Wilson 
himself.  ' 

I  have  said  that  our  liero  was  no  doctor,  but  he 
was  a  man  of  common  sense,  and,  with  all  due 
respect  to  the  noble  profession,  to  which  I  have 
the  honour  to  belong,  common  sense  is  a  quality 
not  possessed  by  every  medical  man. 

Wilson  had  a  happy  thought  !  He  took  his  poor 
friend  by  the  hand  and  led  him  back  as  if  he  had 
been  a  little  child. 

Then  he  called  the  chief  Indian  guide. 

"  Chee-shoh,"  he  said,  "  you  know  the  white  man 
well?" 

"Yea,  yea,  and  net-ee-7iee  tlmn  [I  love  him]." 

"Well,  I  will  give  you  many  more  blankets  and 
much  tobacco,  if  you  will  stay  here  for  some  months 
and  take  care  of  him." 

«I  stop  —  I  stop!"  cried  Chee-shoh.  "I  stop 
plenty  long." 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  A  spare  hut  was 
specially  arranged  for  the  doctor,  and  this  would 
be  his  quarters  ;  for  Wilson  determined  that  he 
would  take  his  friend  back  with  him  as  far  as  San 
Francisco,  and  there  find  him  a  home. 

It  was  all  very  sad,  he  told  Maddie,  "and  yet, 
oh,  dear,"  he  added,  "it  may  be  all  for  the  best;  and 
the  loss  of  memory  in  a  case  like  this  may  really  be 
a  blessing  in  disguise." 

And   now  all    claims   were  worked  with  energy. 


THE   CLOUD   HAS   LIFTED  303 

The  doctor's  turned  out  w.ell,  and  even  the  o-dd 
that  had  been  buried  in  the  ruins  of  the  hut  was 
recovered;  so  tliat  the  poor  man  was  very  far, 
indeed,  from  being-  a  pauper. 

Every  evening  Wilson  took  his  violin  and  went 
across  to  the  doctor's  hut.  At  lirst,  he  hardly 
seemed  to  hear  the  music,  so  distrait  was  he,  but 
gradually  it  seemed  to  creep  into  his  very  soul;  and 
now  he  used  to  listen  with  rapt  attention  to  every 
bar  and  slide  and  chord. 

I  think  that  the  mystic  power  of  music,  as  a 
mental  medicine,  is  hardly  yet  fully  ajjpreciated  by 
the  profession. 

It  must  be  music,  however,  that  shall  be  in  per- 
fect accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  listener.  It 
must  be 

"  The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity  "  — 

music  not  necessarily  melanclioly,  yet  not  too  bright. 

Wilson  used  to  play  with  the  mute  on.  It 
sounded  ever  so  much  more  soft  and  sweet. 

Sometimes,  as  he  played,  tears  would  course 
silently  down  his  poor  friend's  cheeks.  Thoug]i 
something  assured  him  that  this  Avas  a  hopeful  sign, 
he  took  no  notice,  but  just  played  on. 

But  one  evening  Wilson  Webb  tried  an  experi- 
ment.    It  might  have  been  a  rash  one,  nevertheless. 

He  played,  low  and  sweetly,  that  charming  old 
song,  "Ever  of  thee." 

It  had  been  a  great  favourite  with  Lilla,  his  young 


304  THE   CLOUD   HAS   LIFTED 

and  beautiful  wife,  and  Charlie  never  used  to  tire 
hearing  it. 

"  Ever  of  thee  I'm  fondly  dreaming, 

Thy  gentle  voice  my  spirit  can  cheer ; 
Thou  wert  the  star  so  mildly  beaming, 

That  shone  o'er  my  path  when  all  was  dark  and  drear. 

"  Still  in  my  heart  thy  memory  I  cherish, 

Every  kind  thought  like  a  bird  flies  to  thee. 
Ah !  never  till  life  and  memory  perish 
Can  I  forget  how  dear  thou  wert  to  me. 
Morn,  noon,  and  night,  where'er  I  may  be, 
Fondly  I'm  dreaming  —  ever  of  thee." 

A  very  sweet  voice  had  Wilson  Webb  ;  and  as  he 
played,  he  sang  over  his  instrument.  And  from  his 
eyes  some  tears  had  fallen,  so  that  even  when  the 
music  in  sweet,  sad  cadence  died  away,  he  did  not 
look  up  immediately,  for  his  sight  was  blurred  and 
misty. 

When  he  did  at  last  glance  towards  his  friend,  he 
noticed  that  a  change  had  come  over  the  poor  fellow's 
face,  such  as  he  could  not  have  believed  possible. 

That  was  no  longer  the  countenance  nor  the  eyes 
of  one  insane,  but  that  of  a  clear-minded,  think- 
ing, reasoning  being.  A  grief-stricken  countenance, 
nevertheless. 

He  held  out  his  hand  ;  and  with  feelings  that  he 
could  not  himself  have  described,  Webb  grasped  it. 

"  Oh,  Wilson  !  "  said  the  doctor,  "  the  cloud  has 
been  withdrawn.  I  am  myself  again.  But  tell  me, 
dear  friend,  how  long  have  I  been  illf'' 

"A  whole  year,  Charlie.     One  long  year  !  " 


THE   CLOUD   HAS   LIFTED  305 

"  Ever  since  that  awful  night  when  I  lost  my  poor 
wife  ?  " 

"Ever  since  then." 

"  But  tell  me  the  story,  for  all  the  past  since  then 
till  now  is  a  blank." 

And  Wilson  told  him  everything  he  knew,  —  about 
his  sudden  disappearance,  about  his  being  consid- 
ered dead,  about  his  life  among  the  Blue  Mount;dn 
Indians,  and  his  (Wilson's)  going  to  bring  him 
down  the  river. 

"  INIy  dear  fellow,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  owe  my  life 
to  you.  The  cloud  has  lifted,  but  it  leaves  me 
plunged  in  grief." 

"  Ah  !  Charlie,  friend,  she  is  in  a  better  world. 
Do  not  grieve  for  her.  You  would  not  bring  her 
back,  surely  ?  " 

"•  I  would  not  be  so  selfish.  Our  married  life  was 
brief  ;  but  oh,  it  was  happy  !  My  only  regret  is 
that  I  did  not  die  instead  of  Lilla.  And  now,"  he 
continued,  "  you  must  stay  with  me,  Wilson,  just  a 
few  hours  longer,  because  I  would  sleep.  I  may 
sleep  many,  many  hours  ;  but  do  not  wake  me." 

As  he  spoke,  he  partially  undressed,  and  crept 
into  his  cot  under  the  mosquito  curtain. 

"Play  now,  Wilson,"  he  murmured.  "Play  and 
sing  that  sweet,  sad  song  again." 

Wilson  gladly  did  as  he  was  told  ;  but  long  before 
he  had  finished,  the  gentle  rising  and  falling  of  his 
patient's  chest,  told  him  that  sleep  had  claimed  him 
as  its  OAvn. 

X 


306  THE   CLOUD   HAS   LIFTED 

Wilson  rose  now,  and  whispered  some  words  to 
the  Indian  nurse  ;  then  he  left  the  hut  and  stole 
quietly  away  to  his  own  house,  to  tell  every  one 
there  the  joyful  tidings. 

But  he  returned  again  to  the  hut,  and  both  he  and 
the  Indian  watched  beside  the  sleeper  all  night  long. 

Yet  scarcely  could  it  be  called  night  at  this  sea- 
son ;  for  hardly  did  tlie  sun  go  down,  and  scarcely 
ever  did  the  wild  birds  cease  to  sing. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

cajSt  this  be  death? 

"  How  wonderful  is  Death  ! 
Death  and  his  brother  Sleep."  —  Shelley. 

"  Get  up!  "  cried  Jack,  "let  John  sit  down, 

For  we  are  homeward  bound."  —  Old  Song. 

Tered  out  at  last,  Wilson  Webb  sank  into  a  kind 
of  doze  in  wliicli  strano-e  dream  after  strange  dream 
chased  each  other  through  the  regions  of  his  fancy. 

How  long  he  slept,  he  never  knew.  It  may  have 
been  for  hours,  but  he  was  awakened  at  last  by  a 
dream  that  partook  almost  of  the  nature  of  a  night- 
mare. He  thought  he  had  been  wandering  in  a 
forest,  dark  and  deep,  when  a  shadow  fell  between 
him  and  the  light.  He  was  flying  now  from  some- 
thing, he  could  not  tell  wliat.  Init,  as  in  dreams  of 
this  kind,  his  limbs  refused  to  bear  him,  and  he  sank 
down,  the  shadow  darkening  over  him.  Then  be- 
side liim  he  saw  the  dead  body  of  his  friend  the 
doctor,  and,  as  if  beckoning  his  spirit  away  to  hap- 
pier lands,  a  being  whom  he  speedily  recognised  as 
Lilla,  but  far  more  beautiful  even  than  she  had  been 
in  life.     He  heard  strains  of  dulcet  music,  too,  and 

307 


308  CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH? 

caught  siicli  glimpses  of  a  far-off  liappy  land  as 
mortal  eyes  seldom  are  permitted  to  behold. 

He  started  up  now,  wide-eyed,  gasping,  and  per- 
spiring at  every  pore. 

Then  a  sickening  terror  took  possession  of  him. 
The  doctor  was  dead !  So  still  he  lay,  so  pale  he 
was,  he  could  not  be  alive  ! 

There  was  not  a  movement  in  his  frame.  The 
lips  were  slightly  apart,  but  no  breath  seemed  to 
come  tlierefrom. 

Wilson  placed  a  finger  lightly  on  his  pulse. 

"  Thank  Heaven,"  he  said,  half  aloud ;  "  he  still 
lives." 

"  He  go  now  to  de  spirit  land  plenty  mooch  quick." 
This  from  the  Indian. 

"  I  fear  so,"  said  Wilson,  sadly. 

There  was  no  thought  of  mining  that  day,  as  far 
as  Wilson  Webb  was  concerned. 

Either  he,  Maddie,  or  Leebie  sat  beside  the  sleeper 
all  day  long. 

But  towards  evening  Laurie,  who  had  been  on 
watch,  brought  glorious  news  to  the  mansion. 

The  doctor  was  awake,  refreshed  and  quiet.  He 
was  sitting  up,  moreover,  and  had  asked  for  food. 
Wilson  hastened  to  the  hut,  and  found  the  good 
news  true.  And  from  that  very  hour  the  doctor's 
recovery  dated. 

He  was  naturally  weak,  and,  moreover,  he  mourned, 
as  only  a  sensitive  man  can  mourn,  for  the  one  benig 
that  had  been  so  dear  to  him;  who  had  been  lent,  as 


CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH?  309 

it  were,  for  a  brief  space  of  time  to  bless  liis  life,  and 
then  taken  away. 

"Wilson,"  said  the  Doc.,  about  ten  days  after 
this,  "  Fm  drifting  into  low  spirits  and  despond- 
ency. Now,  this  must  not  be.  I  must  prescribe 
for  m^'self  what  1  should  order  for  any  other  patient 
—  u'ork."' 

"  Are  you  strong  enough  ?  " 

"I'll  get  stronger  every  day." 

And  so  the  Doc.  started  work  in  his  mine  that 
very  forenoon. 

"  Grief,"  says  a  well-known  author,  "•  is  the  parent 
of  fame." 

This  is  certainly  the  case  at  times,  so  I  believe ; 
but  one  thing  is  sure  enough,  namely,  that  honest 
work  will  banish  grief.  It  has  a  healing  action  on 
the  brain.  And  this  was  well  exemplified  in  the  case 
of  Dr.  Debrett.  Not  only  did  he  get  stronger  in  body 
day  by  day,  but  in  nund  as  well,  and,  to  all  appear- 
ance, he  was,  in  a  short  time,  the  most  quietly  happy 
man  about  the  camp. 

***** 

The  summer  had  brought  swarms  of  fresh  men, 
and  some  women  as  well,  to  the  regions  al)out 
Bonanza  and  El  Dorado. 

And  greatly  disappointed  men  most  of  these 
were.  They  had  really  come  liere  with  the  idea, 
that  they  woidd  find  gold  lying  about  like  "  chuckie 
stanes  "  (pebbles),  and  that  they  should  only  have 
to  gather  it  and  go  home  again.     But  now,  lo!  they 


3IO  CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH? 

found  every  claim  taken  up,  and  no  cliance  of  get- 
ting in  anywhere.  And,  alas!  scores  of  these 
"  green  Englishmen  "  had  sold  everything  they  pos- 
sessed in  the  old  country  to  come  out  here,  and  now 
were  almost  totally  without  the  means  of  subsistence. 

It  was  very  sad. 

Several  went  prospecting  far  afield.  Men  of  stern 
resolve  these.  True  Britons,  who  would  dare  all  to 
live,  or  failing,  die.  Some  were  successful,  and 
found  gold  in  abundance. 

l>ut  others  there  were  who  got  soon  discouraged, 
and,  being  poorly  fed,  lost  heart  altogether,  and, 
hnally,  found  their  way  to  Dawson  City,  there  to 
work  at  any  odd  jobs  they  could  find  to  do. 

One  could  not  but  feel  sorry  for  these  poor 
fellows.  They  had  sailed  away  from  England  or 
from  Scotland  so  full  of  hope  and  assurance  of  the 
wealth,  and  with  it  the  happiness,  that  a  few  short 
months  would  bring  them. 

And  now  to  be  so  rudely  awakened  from  their 
pleasant  dreams,  to  the  stern  realities  of  a  life  not 
worth  living  ;  to  cold,  to  hunger,  to  misery,  and,  as 
often  as  not,  to  sickness  that  was  but  the  forerunner 
of  early  death. 

Well,  as  the  summer  wore  away,  instead  of  the  in- 
flux of  gold-seekers  getting  less,  it  really  increased. 

And  they  seemed  to  come  from  all  directions;  at 
any  rate,  they  did  not  all  come  up  the  great  Yukon. 
No,  nor  down  it,  either. 


CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH?  311 

And  many  of  the  newcomers  seemed  wealthy  — 
that  is,  well-to-do. 

"I  came  here  to  win,"  one  of  these  told  Wilson 
Webb. 

"And  I." 

"And  I."     This  from  several  others. 

"  Ya-as,"  drawled  a  somewhat  sallow  and  lank 
Yankee,  who  was  smoking  a  cigar  as  big  as  an 
umbrella  when  it  is  neatly  rolled  up,  —  well,  more 
or  less,  I  mean,  — "  j^a-as,  sir  ;  Fve  been  in  gold 
mines  before,  and  digging,  in  my  'pinion,  is  just 
like  advertising  —  3'ou  want  to  keep  on  at  it  persis- 
tent-like, if  you  are  to  make  a  pile." 

"  That's  true,"  the  others  assented. 

"  But  now  here  we  are,  and  we've  got  to  go  pro- 
specting. Worse  luck  !  Made  sure  we'd  find 
claims  here  to  be  almost  given  away." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Wilson,  "  if  you  really  want 
to  buy  into  some  good  claims,  and  if  you  can  pay  —  " 

"  AVe  ca7i  pay." 

"  Call  on  me  to-morrow  at  the  mansion,  say  by 
twelve  o'clock.  Mind  this.  I  don't  promise,  posi- 
tively, that  there  will  be  claims  for  sale.  I  only 
just  tliink  there  may  be  four." 

"  Hurrah  !     We'll  be  there." 

That  same  evening  after  supper,  when  the  doctor, 
Ernest,  Laurie,  and  all  sat  round  the  fire,  Wilson 
Webb  made  a  little  speech. 

Speech-making  was  not  much  in  his  line,  only  this 
was  a  special  occasion. 


312  CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH? 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  without  getting  out  of  his 
chair,  "we've  been  here  a  long  time,  now,  and  tak- 
ing the  one  thing  with  tlie  other,  I  tliink  we've  been 
precious  lucky." 

"  Hear  !     Hear  !  " 

"  Well,  I,  for  one,  have  made  my  pile.  Twice  or 
thrice  I've  added  considerably  to  the  treasure-ship's 
cargo.     You  boys  have  also  done  fairly." 

"  True  !  " 

"  And  my  dear  Doc,  yours  has  lately  worked 
splendidly." 

"That's  so,  Wilson." 

"  Well,  much  though  I  love  Klondyke,  I'm  going 
to  leave  it.  The  winter  is  but  a  measurable  dis- 
tance ahead  of  us,  and  owing  to  the  famine  of  last 
dark  season,  I  doubt  if  we  have  enough  food  left  to 
take  us  through  another  ;  so  I'm  going  to  sell  out 
to-morrow." 

"  But  can  you  ?  "  said  the  Doc. 

Then  Wilson  told  them  of  his  meeting  with  the 
speculators,  and  of  their  intended  visit  next  day  to 
buy  claims  —  if  they  could. 

Well,  although  Wilson's  proposal  was  thoroughly 
sifted  and  debated,  it  was  finally  agreed  to  unani- 
mously. 

So  when  the  speculators  arrived  next  day,  they 
found  four  capitally  going  claims  for  sale. 

But  not  for  nothing. 

No  ;  Wilson  Webb  was  a  business  man,  and  when 
he  was  offered  what  he  considered  an  insisfnificant 


CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH?  313 

sum,  lie  coolly  lit  a  cigar  and  addressed  the  men  as 
follows  :  — 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  realh'  took  you  for  men 
of  the  world,  but  I  find  you  are  only  school-boys. 
Well,  this  interview  ends  right  here.  My  price  for 
these  four  claims  is  —  " 

Here  he  named  a  very  large  sum. 

"  I'll  give  you  an  hour  to  consider  about  it.  If 
you  don't  see  your  way,  the  claims  shall  be  put  up 
to  auction  in  Dawson  City." 

"Here!"  cried  one  who  seemed  to  be  at  the  head 
of  affairs,  "  we  shall  not  want  an  hour  to  consider. 
My  advice  to  my  friends  is,  Close  at  once.  What 
say  you,  men  ?  " 

"  Close,"  was  the  answer. 

So,  much  to  every  one's  satisfaction,  the  business 
came  to  an  end. 

Those  speculators  were  not  men  of  straw ;  but 
large  though  the  cheque  paid  to  Wilson  was,  I  have 
heard  that  they  took  gold  enough  out  of  the  four 
claims,  before  the  winter  ended,  to  pay  it  six  times  over. 

Young  John  had  been  asked  to  sell  his  claim,  but 
refused.  He  determined  to  work  it  for  another  year 
at  the  very  least,  and  so  Wilson  and  his  fellow- 
travellers  had  to  leave  him  behind. 

"  Good  luck  to  you,  John,"  said  everybody.  "  And 
mind,"  added  Wilson,  "  that  when  3'ou  come  to  Eng- 
land on  your  way  to  Paris,  Avhere  all  good  Ameri- 
cans go,  you  must  come  to  see  us  all.  This  is  my 
banker's  address." 


314  CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH? 

"  That  will  I,"  said  young  Jolm,  "  and  if  ever  you 
come  to  Chicago,  just  drop  in,  will  you,  and  see  the 
finest  city  in  all  creation." 

Young  John  had  never  been  demonstrative,  but 
now,  in  saying  good-bye  to  his  friends,  he  displayed 
far  more  feeling  than  any  one  would  have  given  him 
credit  for. 

Indeed,  Leebie  felt  certain  that  she  noticed  tears 
in  those  honest  big  blue  eyes  of  his. 

But  Leebie  might  have  been  mistaken. 

It  had  been  a  busy  time  for  a  whole  week  before 
our  people  left  the  gold  diggings.  There  was  a 
good  deal  to  pack  up,  but  everything  they  did  not 
want,  and  all  the  food  they  had  not  used,  was  put 
to  the  hammer.  Even  the  huts  tliey  had  built  and 
their  rough,  primitive  cooking-utensils  and  tools 
were  sold. 

They  retained  their  guns,  however,  and  Wilson 
laughingly  proposed  that  they  should  also  keep  their 
well-worn  picks  and  shovels.  So  these  were  j^acked 
up. 

The  men  they  had  so  befriended  were  as  grieved 
at  parting  as  young  John  himself,  and  long  after 
they  started  for  Dawson  City  that  wild  and  heartfelt 
cheer  seemed  ringing  in  their  ears. 

The  doctor  went  to  see  the  grave  of  poor  Lilla, 
his  wife,  before  he  left,  and  with  him  went  Wilson. 
He  shed  a  tear  or  two,  he  reverently  touched  the 
sod,  and  that  was  all. 

"  Good-bye,   Lilla,   good-bye,"  he  said,   or  rather 


CAN   THIS   BE   DEATH?  315 

sif^lied.  "  For  your  sweet  sake  I  sliall  lead  a  better 
life  than  e'er  I've  done  before,  that  I  may  meet  jou 
in  the  world  above.     Good-bye." 

The  lucky  gold-diggers  were  going  to  drop  down 
the  river,  and  so  on  to  St.  Michael's,  in  their  way 
to  San  Francisco. 

The  steamer  was  late,  however,  and  they  had  to 
wait  at  Dawson  City  for  nearly  a  weelc.  And  with 
some  considerable  anxiety,  too.  For  there  was  just 
the  chance  of  the  river  being  hard  frozen  in  that 
portion  of  it  which  sweeps  up  into  the  Arctic  re- 
gions. If  so,  though  it  was  only  autumn  yet,  there 
was  the  disagreeable  and  dismal  probabilit}^  that 
they  might  have  to  winter  somewhere  en  route. 

They  were  not  sorry,  therefore,  when  the  steamer 
was  at  long  last  floating  down  the  stream. 

And  I  am  quite  certain  that  the  two  dogs,  Towsie 
and  Currie,  knew  as  well  as  any  one  on  board  that 
they  were  homeward  bound. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE   WELCOME   HOIME 

oh,  I  have  roamed  o'er  many  lands, 

And  sailed  o'er  many  a  sea ; 
But  of  all  the  spots  on  this  sweet  earth, 

My  British  home  for  me  ! 
My  British  home  !     My  British  home ! 

Land  of  the  good  and  free  ! 
And  I  would  spill  my  Highland  blood. 

My  British  home,  for  thee.  —  G.  S. 

There  are  people  in  tliis  world  who  really  do  not 
know  liow  to  enjoy  themselves  ;  people  possessed 
of  wealth  who  do  not  know  in  the  least  how  to  get 
any  pleasure  therefrom. 

But  neither  Wilson  nor  his  friends  belonged  to 
(his  category. 

There  was  a  little  bother  farther  north  in  getting 
the  ship  through  the  floating  ice,  and  a  good  deal  of 
hammering  and  poling  was  needed ;  but  at  last  they 
got  clear  away,  and  in  good  time  found  themselves, 
not  onl}'  at  the  mouths  of  the  Yukon,  but  at  St. 
Michael's  itself. 

They  were  lucky  enough  to  catch  the  very  last 
southward-bound  steamship,  and  it  was  then,  and 
not    till   then,    that   Wilson    Webb    and    the    boys 

316 


TPIE   WELCOME   HOME  317 

thought  they  were  quite  justified  in  building  a  few 
castles  in  the  air. 

I  have  said  never  a  word  about  their  correspond- 
ence with  the  old  country,  during  their  gold-hunting 
adventures  in  Klondyke.  Letters  came  but  seldom, 
yet  they  kept  in  touch  with  friends  and  relations 
nevertheless.  And  from  the  very  latest  accounts, 
all  was  well  at  home. 

The  ship  they  were  now  on  board  of  Avas  a  very 
comfortable  and,  may  I  add,   contented  one.     But 
the  adjective   "contented,"   some  may  tell  me,  can 
only  be  used  to  qualify  that  which  possesses  life. 
Well,  somehow  I  could  never  help  looking  at  a  ship 
otherwise  than  as   a  living,  sentient  being.     I   am 
just   that   much   a   sailor,   at   all   events.      But  the 
Annie  Boleen,  as   the  old-fashioned   skipper   called 
her,  had  apparently  made  up  her  mind  about  a  good 
many  things.     She  was  fifty  years  of  age  if  a  day, 
and   therefore    old   enough   to   take   matters    easy. 
"What  is  the  good  of  hurry-scurry?"  she  seemed 
to  say.     "  With  all  their  steam  and  rattle  and  noise, 
with  all  the  first   mate's    bawling   and   his   use   of 
words  not  usually  found  in  Scriptural  texts,  they'll 
be  very  clever,  indeed,  if  they  can  knock  more  than 
ten  knots   out  of   me.     But  I'll  get  there,  all  the 
same,  one  of  these  days.     They  may  call  me  an  old 
tub  if  they  like,  and  tell  me  that  I  shake  and  shiver 
like  an  ancient  clothes-basket  whenever  I  get  a  clip 
on  the  bow  with  a  big  sea  or  a  runaway  bit  of  ice  ; 
and  the  sailors  may  growl  and  growl  because  they 


31 8  THE   WELCOME   HOME 

have  to  pump  an  hour  in  every  watch.  Pooh  I  what 
does  it  matter  to  me  ?  Why,  if  a  sailor  had  nothing 
to  growl  at,  he'd  be  as  miserable  a  man  as  they  make 
them.  As  for  me,  I'm  going  to  take  tliis  watery 
world  easy." 

And  she  did. 

She  rose  and  fell  on  the  long,  racing  seas  in  an 
easy  showdy-bowdy  sort  of  a  way  that  almost  sent 
one  to  sleep.  When  she  was  stern-down,  with  her 
jib-boom  in  the  air,  the  Annie  Boleen  seemed  to  be 
studying  astronomy  ;  when  she  did  condescend  to 
dip  her  prow  again,  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  appeared 
to  have  such  attractions  for  her,  that  she  was  not  in 
the  slightest  hurry  to  get  on  an  even  keel  again. 

Well,  she  rolled  to  starboard  and  she  swung  to 
port,  for  all  the  world  as  if  singing  the  cradle  hymn 
to  herself. 

"  I  say,  matie,"  said  the  skipper  one  forenoon  to 
his  first  officer,  "  blow  me  tight,  if  I  don't  think  that, 
as  the  wind  is  about  fair,  we  hadn't  better  bank  fires 
and  clap  sail  on  her.  Blessed  if  I  don't  believe 
we'll  get  as  much  out  of  the  danged  old  consarn 
under  canvas,  as  under  steam." 

"A  'danged  old  consarn,'  am  I?"  said  the  Ajinie 
Boleen  to  herself.  "  Well,  that's  all  ni}'  thanks  for 
keeping  afloat  so  long.  That's  all  I  get  for  having 
weathered  that  awful  gale  off  Pumnak,  when  two 
other  vessels  went  to  the  bottom  pop  !  " 

"  I'm  o'  your  way  o'  thinkin',  sir,  and  mebbe  we'd 
just  as  well  let  the  fires  out  altogether." 


THE    WELCOME    HOME  319 

''Very  Avell,  inatie,  very  well." 

So  sail  was  set,  and  everything  011  board  was  far 
more  jolly,  ship-shape,  and  comfortable  after  that. 

"  This  is  what  I  call  something  like  being  at  sea," 
said  Wilson  Webb,  cheerfully.  ''  l)other  the  rattle 
and  the  roar  of  dirty  engines.  I'uts  me  in  mhid  of 
being  in  a  jute  factory  all  the  time." 

Everybody  agreed  with  him,  even  the  skipper 
himself,  but  more  especially  the  engineers  and 
stokers.  -They  could  now  smoke  the  calumet  of 
peace  at  the  fo'c'sle  head  and  breatlie  pure  air  in- 
stead of  coal  dust. 

But  what  made  this  voyage  all  the  more  delightful 
to  Wilson  and  his  little  party,  Avas  that  there  were 
very  few  passengers  on  board  except  themselves  ; 
so,  cosy,  indeed,  were  their  dinners,  and  cosier  still 
their  evenings,  Avhen  they  sat  around  the  big  stove, 
over  which  was  placed  a  huge  copper  coffee -urn  that 
made  the  merriest  kind  of  music  imaginable,  hissing 
and  steaming  and  throwing  out  a  fragrance  that  was 
very  inviting. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  music.  For  Wilson's 
fiddle  was  like  himself  —  never  in  better  form.  Even 
the  sailors  used  to  "  lay  aft "  to  listen,  and  more  than 
one  was  heard  to  say  that  if  he  could  oidy  bring 
music  like  that  out  of  catgut,  he  would  never  tempt 
the  sea  again. 

During  the  first  part  of  the  voyage,  although  the 
weather  was  fine,  it  was  vcny  cold,  and  there  were 
many  streams  of   ice  about.      The  long  nights,  too, 


320  THE  WELCOME   HOME 

were  dark,  and  the  rattling  or  bumping  on  the  bows 
and  along  both  sides  of  the  ship,  was  terrific  when 
passing  through  the  ice.  The  pieces  were  flat  and 
of  no  great  size,  but  still  large  enough  to  bear  the 
weight  of  many  a  fur-seal  or  sea-lion  that  lay  sound 
asleep  on  these  snow-clad  rafts. 

Well,  with  all  her  self-contentedness,  the  Annie 
Boleen  was  a  strong  and  a  safe  ship.  This  was 
fully  proved  when  a  storm  arose  as  they  were  pass- 
ing through  the  Aleutian  chain  of  islands. 

It  was  but  half  a  gale  at  first,  and  the  skipper 
hoped  it  would  remain  at  that.  He  was  disap- 
pointed ;  for  the  glass  went  tumbling  down,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  shorten  sail  to  such  an  extent  that 
the  Annie  was  soon  staggering  along  under  very 
little  canvas  indeed. 

A  fearful  night  succeeded  a  wild  and  stormy  day. 
Darkness  closed  around  them  a  full  hour  before  its 
time.  It  would  be  but  the  truth  to  say  that  the 
ship  was  enveloped  in  clouds,  and  so  near  aboard 
did  they  seem,  so  closely  did  they  hug  the  wind- 
tossed  ocean,  that  the  masts  seemed  to  cut  them 
asunder.  The  gale  came  tearing  up  astern,  and 
the  waves  that  now  and  then  broke  over  the  Annie 
Boleen  so  weighted  her  down,  that  both  fore  and  aft 
there  was  a  momentary  silence,  which  gave  one  the 
impression  that  she  was  settling  slowly  down  to  the 
black  and  slimy  depths  of  the  northern  sea.  And 
every  one  felt  relieved  when  they  heard  the  roaring 
of  the  wind  again. 


THE  WELCOME   HOME  321 

When  dayliglit  broke  once  more  murkily  over  tlie 
grey,  unsettled  ocean,  and  the  storm-clouds  went 
trailing  along  the  horizon,  it  was  found  that  scarcely 
a  bulwark  was  broken,  and  not  a  single  boat  was 
carried  away. 

"  Wa-al,"  said  the  mate,  "  it  is  true  enough,  sir, 
that  Annie  isn't  a  beauty  to  look  at,  but  split  my 
mainsail,  if  she  ain't  a  sturdy  old  craft,  for  all  that." 
An7iie  Boleen  seemed  to  shake  her  sides  and  laugh. 
"True,  true,"  the  skipper  said;  ''I  'llow  she 
behaved  better  than  many  a  new  one  would  have 
done.  But  several  times,  matie,  durin'  the  awful 
storm  T  did  think  we  were  going  to  Davy  Jones." 

"Oh!  as  for  me,  sir,  I  made  sure  of  it.  Look  at 
this,  capting." 

He  held  up  a  black  bottle  as  he  spoke. 
"  What's  that,  matie  ?     Ye  don't  mean  to  say  you 
were  goin'  to  die  drunk  ?  " 

"  Never  a  bone  of  me,  sir.  No  Dutch  courage  for 
this  child.  When  I  goes  to  heaven,  sir,  I  goes  quite 
sober.  But  that's  a  bottle  sealed,  as  you  see,  and 
inside  is  a  letter  to  my  wife.  Guess  she'd  never 
have  got  it.  Only  you  never  can  tell.  Can  you  ?  " 
"No,  matie." 

The  "matie"  opened  the  bottle  with  his  pocket 
cork  screw,  and  shook  out  the  epistle,  which  he 
proceeded  to  read. 

"'The  ^.^.  Annie  Boleen,  iu  tlie  Bearing  Seas  of  Alasker. 
Beloved  wife  and  children.  Wich  we're  siukin  fast.  God  be 
merciful.     But  thinkiu  more  of  you.      Heaven  will  take  care 


322  THE    WELCOME   HOME 

of  you.     Last  thoughts  of  you.     Kiss  Johiniie  and  Ellie.     No 
more  —  no  more. 

" '  Your  loving  husban, 

" '  Tom  Cassell,  goin  down.'  " 

"Glad,  sir,  I  didn't  throw  it  overboard." 

"  And  so  am  I,  niatie." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wilson,"  lie  added,  as  that  individual 
came  up,  making  heavy  weather,  for  there  still  was 
a  rough  sea  on,  "  well,  how  fares  it  below  ?  " 

"We're  all  beautiful  now." 

"  Sleep  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  we  all  slept." 

"  Good  for  3^ou.  Well,  it's  going  to  be  fine. 
The  glass  is  going  up  ;  and  in  ten  days'  time,  why, 
we'll  all  be  on  shore  at  San  Francisco." 

And  sure  enough  the  good  Aveather  did  come,  — 
blue  skies,  fleecy  clouds,  sun-kissed  seas,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it,  just  the  kind  of  weather  to  make  a 
poet  out  of  even  the  dullest  material. 

Perhaps  our  heroes  needed  rest.  I  am  of  tliat 
way  of  thinking,  because,  for  many  days  now,  while 
the  good  ship  sailed  slowly  into  warmer  weather, 
they  felt  inclined  to  sleep  most  of  the  time. 

But  a  brisk  wind  began  to  blow  from  the  north- 
north-east,  and  braced  up  the  nerves  of  every  man  on 
board. 

Away  forward  Jack  himself  was  singing  all  day 
long.  At  eventide,  after  the  main  brace  was  spliced, 
—  for  the  skipper  was  generous  in  that  way,  —  the 
men  leaned  about  the  bows,  smoking ;  and  from  the 


TIIK    WKLCOME    HOME  323 

bursts  of  hearty  laugliing  that  rose  every  now  and 
then,  it  was  evident  that  many  a  droll  sea-yarn  was 
being  spun,  and  many  a  tough  tale  told. 

"  I  say,"  said  Wilson  one  day,  about  a  week  after 
they  had  landed  in  'Frisco,  and  were  all  comfortably 
housed  in  a  homelike  hotel,  "  Ikjw  do  you  think  I  am 
going  to  take  you  all  home  from  New  York  ?  " 

''  The  fastest  ocean  greyhound,"  ventured  Ernest. 

"  No,  not  the  fleetest,"  answered  Wilson.  "  I  am 
in  communication  with  Captain  Barnes,  and  ten  to 
one,  I  shall  buy  his  splendid  ocean  yacht." 

"  Capital  !  "    cried  both  Ernest  and  Laurie  ;    and 
Avhen  ]Maddie  and  Leebie  got  an  inkling  of  Wilson's 
intention,  they  went  into  raptures  over  the  idea. 
***** 

Well,  nothing  would  satisfy  the  good  doctor  but 
crossing  the  Rockies  to  have  a  look  at  the  city  of 
"We're-all-here." 

"  After  that,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  purchase  a  practice 
in  Xew  York ;  for  I  love  my  profession,  and  idleness 
w^ould  soon  kill  me." 

"But,  my  dear  Doc,"  cried  Wilson,  "I've  got  an 
idea  that  it  would  do  these  lads  good  to  have  a  look 
at  the  plains  and  the  cowboys  before  going  home  to 
tame,  domestic,  but  dear  old  England.  We  can 
leave  the  ladies  here  and  return  for  them." 

Leebie  stamped  her  little  foot. 

"  The  ladies  are  going  to  cowboy  land  as  well  as 
you,"  she  said.     "  Aren't  they,  Maddie  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  certainly." 


324  THE   WELCOME   HOME 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  So  it  had  to  be  arranged 
I  ought  to  say. 

One  way  or  another  the  journey  was  a  long  and  — 
under  other  circumstances  —  it  woukl  have  been  con- 
sidered a  very  fatiguing  one.  As  it  was,  however, 
everything  went  as  merrily  as  marriage  l^ells. 

When  they  did  arrive  at  last  at  "  TFe're-all-here," 
the  boys  turned  out  en  masse  to  greet  them,  and  their 
welcome  was  a  ten-horse -power  one. 

The  editor  himself  was  the  first  to  extend  a  brown, 
hard  hand,  and  it  was  a  case  of  "shake  "  all  round. 

And  a  very  delightful  week  they  spent  among  the 
cowboys.  Indeed,  the  more  INIaddie  and  Leebie 
saw  of  these  honest  fellows,  the  better  they  liked 
them,  so  different  were  they  from  all  the  ideas  that 
have  been  fostered  concerning  them  in  our  country. 

But  time  wears  away,  and  after  a  hearty  farewell 
they  liad  to  leave  cowboy  land,  and  in  a  fortnight's 
time  had  left  New  York  itself,  in  the  sea-yaclit 
Anemone. 

Who  knows  that  I  may  not  at  some  future  time 
tell  you  of  the  cruise  round  the  world  of  this  beau- 
tiful vessel  ?  For  such  a  cruise  has  been  fully  ar- 
ranged, and  by  the  time  the  reader's  eyes  scan  these 
pages  Wilson's  A^iemone  will  be  far  away  in  foreign 
lands. 

But  this  reminds  me  that  my  story  is  nearly,  if  not 
quite,  finished. 

When  I  say  that  everybody  at  home  was  found  to 


-       THE    WELCOME   HOME  325 

be  well  and  happy,  what  need  is  there  to  expatiate 
on  the  welcome  the  wanderers  received  ? 

Only  some  things  must  be  told. 

Well,  Bobbie,  the  daft,  wee  pony,  was  out  in  the 
field,  and  so  was  Neddy,  his  companion.  Both  ran 
to  the  gate  to  meet  the  boys  and  Leebie,  but  their 
ways  of  ex})ressing  their  joy  differed  somewhat. 

Bobbie  thrust  his  warm  nose  into  Leebie's  arms, 
and  really  seemed  to  sob  and  sigh.  He  had  quite 
given  her  up  for  lost,  and  her  sudden  return  was 
almost  too  much  for  his  nerves,  and  made  him 
hysterical  for  the  time  being. 

But  Neddy,  after  kicking  his  heels  in  the  air  sev- 
eral times,  and  even  trying  to  walk  on  his  hind  legs, 
burst  into  what  appeared  to  be  an  uncontrollable  fit 
of  such  hearty  laughter,  that  even  the  dogs  had  to 
take  part  in  it,  and  in  order  to  allay  their  feelings 
fly  round  and  round  the  field  in  a  circle,  but  so 
swiftly  that  they  could  scarce  be  seen. 

Wilson  and  his  wife  became  the  guests  of  the 
squire  for  a  month  and  more,  and  there  was  not  a 
friend  or  neighbour  all  round  the  country-side,  that 
he  did  not  invite  to  his  house  just  to  hear  the  trav- 
ellers speak  of  all  their  adventures  in  the  land  of 
gold.  Indeed,  he  even  imported  people  from  Lon- 
don to  meet  them  ;  for  this  jolly  old  squire  was  en- 
thusiastic to  a  degree. 

***** 
Well,  Farmer  Lea  himself  is  a  man  that  can  always 
take  things  easy,  and  no  doubt  he  was  exceedingly 


326  THE    WELCOME   HOME 

glad  to  see  Laurie  and  Leebie,  and  even  Towsie  and 
Currie,  all  baek  home  safe  and  sound.  On  the  con- 
trary, Mrs.  Lea  was  somewhat  nervous  and  demon- 
strative, and  she  really  could  not,  for  a  considerable 
time,  believe  her  own  eyes  that  her  children  were 
indeed  before  her.  But  those  eyes  were  really  con- 
siderably dimmed  with  tears;  for  if  she  laughed  one 
minute,  she  cried  the  next. 

About  a  week  after  his  return,  Laurie  proposed 
that  his  father  should  give  up  the  farm  and  live  in 
a  city. 

Laurie  was  sly,  for  he  knew  pretty  well  what  the 
answer  would  be. 

"  Leave  the  country,  Laurie  !  *Give  up  my  farm  ! 
Never  see  the  green  fields  and  woods  again,  and  the 
horses  that  know  and  love  me  !  No,  Laurie,  no. 
When  I  leave  my  farm,  it  will  be  to  take  my  place 
in  the  old  churchyard  yonder,  where  my  fathers  sleep 
so  soundly." 

"  Father,  it  was  only  my  fun ;  but  the  farm  does 
not  pay  very  well,  does  it  ?  " 

"The  rent  is  somewhat  high,  my  lad." 

"  Well,  father,  look  !  " 

Laurie  j^laced  a  batch  of  title-deeds  in  his  hand. 

The  farm  was  a  farm  no  longer,  but  a  small  free- 
hold estate. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son  !     God  bless  you,  boy !  " 

"  No,  no,  father,  not  for  that.  What  should  I  do 
else  with  my  money,  I  wonder  ?  Oh,  I  am  old 
enough  to  know  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 


THE    WELCOME    HOME  327 

receive.  But  I  love  the  dear  old  liome  as  much  as 
you.     And  I  shall  never  leave  it,  either. 

"  Besides,"  Laurie  continued,  "  Ernest  is  going  to 
build  a  lovely  house  on  the  hill  beside  the  lake,  and 
he  will  thus  be  our  nearest  neighbour  after  he  mar- 
ries Leebie." 

"  Eh  ?     What  ?     ^Marries  —  say  it  again  !  " 

"Oh,  father,  Leebie  is  no  longer  a  child,  but  a 
young  woman  ;  and  I  know  for  certain  that,  willi 
your  consent,  what  I  have  said  is  coming  off  in  a 
year  or  two,  at  most.'" 

"  So  may  they  be  happy,"'  said  Farmer  Lea,  sink- 
inor  into  a  chair  ;  "  but  dear  me  I  dear  me  I  I  never 
thought  that  little  Leebie  would  get  old  —  nor 
mj^self,  either.     But  —  the  Lord's  will  be  done." 


THE    END 


